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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Helen and Arthur, by Caroline Lee Hentz
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Helen and Arthur
+       or, Miss Thusa's Spinning Wheel
+
+Author: Caroline Lee Hentz
+
+Release Date: October 20, 2007 [EBook #23106]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HELEN AND ARTHUR ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Julia Miller and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note
+
+Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. A list of changes is
+found at the end of this text. A small number of words were spelled
+or hyphenated inconsistently. These inconsistencies have been maintained
+and a list is found at the end of the text.
+
+
+
+
+HELEN AND ARTHUR;
+
+OR,
+
+Miss Thusa's Spinning Wheel.
+
+BY
+
+MRS. CAROLINE LEE HENTZ.
+
+AUTHOR OF "LINDA," "COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE," "PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE,"
+"LOVE AFTER MARRIAGE," "EOLINE," "RENA," ETC.
+
+_Complete in one large volume, bound in cloth, price One Dollar and
+Twenty-five cents, or in two volumes, paper cover, for One Dollar._
+
+READ WHAT SOME OF THE LEADING EDITORS SAY OF IT:
+
+"This book, by one of the most popular authors in the country, has been
+issued in the publisher's very best style. There are but few readers of
+the current literature of the day, who are not acquainted with the name,
+and the stories of this authoress. Her style is a pleasing one, and her
+stories usually strongly marked in incident. The volume now published
+abounds with the most beautiful scenic descriptions, and displays an
+intimate acquaintance with all phases of human character; all the
+characters being exceedingly well drawn. The moral is of a most
+wholesome character, and the plot, incidents, and management, give
+evidence of great tact, skill and judgment, on the part of the writer.
+It is a work which the oldest and the youngest may alike read with
+profit."--_Dollar Newspaper._
+
+"It is a tale of Southern life, where Mrs. Hentz is peculiarly at home,
+and so far as we have had time to examine it, it gives proofs of
+possessing all the excellencies that have already made her writings so
+popular throughout the country. The sound, healthy tone of all Mrs.
+Hentz's tales makes them safe as well as delightful reading, and we can
+safely and warmly recommend it to all who delight in agreeable fictions.
+Mr. Peterson has published it in a beautifully printed volume."--_Evening
+Bulletin._
+
+"A story of domestic life, written in Mrs. Hentz's best vein. The
+details of the plot are skilfully elaborated, and many passages are
+deeply pathetic."--_Commercial Advertiser._
+
+MRS. CAROLINE LEE HENTZ'S OTHER WORKS.
+
+T. B. Peterson having purchased the stereotype plates of all the
+writings of Mrs. Hentz, he has just published a new, uniform and
+beautiful edition of all her works, printed on a much finer and better
+paper, and in far superior and better style to what they have ever
+before been issued in, (all in uniform style with Helen and Arthur,)
+copies of any one or all of which will be sent to any place in the
+United States, free of postage, on receipt of remittances. Each book
+contains a beautiful illustration of one of the best scenes. The
+following are the names of these celebrated works:
+
+LINDA. THE YOUNG PILOT OF THE BELLE CREOLE. Complete in two volumes,
+    paper cover, price One Dol., or bound in one volume, cloth gilt,
+    $1.25.
+
+"We hail with pleasure this contribution to the literature of the South.
+Works containing faithful delineations of Southern life, society, and
+scenery, whether in the garb of romance or in the soberer attire of
+simple narrative, cannot fail to have a salutary influence in correcting
+the false impressions which prevail in regard to our people and
+institutions; and our thanks are due to Mrs. Hentz for the addition she
+has made to this department of our native literature. We cannot close
+without expressing a hope that 'Linda' may be followed by many other
+works of the same class from the pen of its gifted author."--_Southern
+Literary Gazette._
+
+"Mrs. Hentz has given us here a very delightful romance, illustrative of
+life in the South-west, on a Mississippi plantation. There is a
+well-wrought love-plot; the characters are well drawn; the incidents are
+striking and novel; the dénouement happy, and moral excellent. Mrs.
+Hentz may twine new laurels above her 'Mob Cap.'"--_Evening Bulletin._
+
+ROBERT GRAHAM. The Sequel to, and continuation of Linda. Complete in two
+    large volumes, paper cover, price One Dol., or bound in one volume,
+    cloth gilt, $1.25.
+
+"We cannot admire too much, nor thank Mrs. Hentz too sincerely for the
+high and ennobling morality and Christian grace, which not only pervade
+her entire writings, but which shine forth with undimmed beauty in the
+new novel, Robert Graham. It sustains the character which is very
+difficult to well delineate in a work of fiction--_a religious
+missionary_. All who read the work will bear testimony to the entire
+success of Mrs. Hentz."--_Boston Transcript._
+
+"The thousands who read 'Linda, or, the Young Pilot of the Belle
+Creole,' will make haste to procure a copy of this book, which is a
+sequel to that history. Like all of this writer's works, it is natural
+and graphic, and very entertaining."--_City Item._
+
+"A charming novel; and in point of plot, style, and all the other
+characteristics of a readable romance, it will compare favorably with
+almost any of the many publications of the season."--_Literary Gazette._
+
+RENA; or, THE SNOW BIRD. A Tale of Real Life. Complete in two volumes,
+    paper cover, price One Dol., or bound in one volume, cloth gilt,
+    $1.25.
+
+"'Rena; or, the Snow Bird' elicits a thrill of deep and exquisite
+pleasure, even exceeding that which accompanied 'Linda,' which was
+generally admitted to be the best story ever written for a newspaper.
+That was certainly high praise, but 'Rena' takes precedence even of its
+predecessor, and, in both, Mrs. Lee Hentz has achieved a triumph of no
+ordinary kind. It is not that old associations bias our judgment, for
+though from the appearance, years since, of the famous 'Mob Cap' in this
+paper, we formed an exalted opinion of the womanly and literary
+excellence of the writer, our feelings have, in the interim, had quite
+sufficient leisure to cool; yet, after the lapse of years, we have
+continued to maintain the same literary devotion to this best of our
+female writers. The two last productions of Mrs. Lee Hentz now fully
+confirm our previously formed opinion, and we unhesitatingly commend
+'Rena,' now published in book form, in beautiful style, by T. B.
+Peterson, as a story which, in its varied, deep, and thrilling interest,
+has no superior."--_American Courier._
+
+THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. With illustrations. Complete in two large
+    volumes, paper cover, 600 pages, price One Dollar, or bound in one
+    volume, cloth gilt, $1.25.
+
+"We have seldom been more charmed by the perusal of a novel; and we
+desire to commend it to our readers in the strongest words of praise
+that our vocabulary affords. The incidents are well varied; the scenes
+beautifully described; and the interest admirably kept up. But the
+_moral_ of the book is its highest merit. The 'Planter's Northern Bride'
+should be as welcome as the dove of peace to every fireside in the
+Union. It cannot be read without a moistening of the eyes, a softening
+of the heart, and a mitigation of sectional and most unchristian
+prejudices."--_N. Y. Mirror._
+
+"It is unquestionably the most powerful and important, if not the most
+charming work that has yet flowed from her elegant pen; and though
+evidently founded upon the all-absorbing subjects of slavery and
+abolitionism, the genius and skill of the fair author have developed new
+views of golden argument, and flung around the whole such a halo of
+pathos, interest, and beauty, as to render it every way worthy the
+author of 'Linda,' 'Marcus Warland,' 'Rena,' and the numerous other
+literary gems from the same author."--_American Courier._
+
+COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE; or, THE JOYS AND SORROWS OF AMERICAN LIFE. With
+    a Portrait of the Author. Complete in two large volumes, paper
+    cover, price One Dollar, or bound in one volume, cloth gilt, $1.25.
+
+"This work will be found, on perusal by all, to be one of the most
+exciting, interesting, and popular works that has ever emanated from the
+American Press. It is written in a charming style, and will elicit
+through all a thrill of deep and exquisite pleasure. It is a work which
+the oldest and the youngest may alike read with profit. It abounds with
+the most beautiful scenic descriptions; and displays an intimate
+acquaintance with all phases of human character; all the characters
+being exceedingly well drawn. It is a delightful book, full of
+incidents, oftentimes bold and startling, and describes the warm
+feelings of the Southerner in glowing colors. Indeed, all Mrs. Hentz's
+stories aptly describe Southern life, and are highly moral in their
+application. In this field Mrs. Hentz wields a keen sickle, and harvests
+a rich and abundant crop. It will be found in plot, incident, and
+management, to be a superior work. In the whole range of elegant moral
+fiction, there cannot be found any thing of more inestimable value, or
+superior to this work, and it is a gem that will well repay a careful
+perusal. The Publisher feels assured that it will give entire
+satisfaction to all readers, encourage good taste and good morals, and
+while away many leisure hours with great pleasure and profit, and be
+recommended to others by all that peruse it."
+
+MARCUS WARLAND; or, THE LONG MOSS SPRING. A Tale of the South. Complete
+    in two volumes, paper cover, price One Dol., or bound in one volume,
+    cloth gilt, $1.25.
+
+"Every succeeding chapter of this new and beautiful nouvellette of Mrs.
+Hentz increases in interest and pathos. We defy any one to read aloud
+the chapters to a listening auditory, without deep emotion, or producing
+many a pearly tribute to its truthfulness, pathos, and power."--_Am.
+Courier._
+
+"It is pleasant to meet now and then with a tale like this, which seems
+rather like a narrative of real events than a creature of the
+imagination."--_N. Y. Commercial Advertiser._
+
+AUNT PATTY'S SCRAP BAG, together with large additions to it, written by
+    Mrs. Hentz, prior to her death, and never before published in any
+    former edition of this or any other work. Complete in two volumes,
+    paper cover, price One Dol., or bound in one volume, cloth gilt,
+    $1.25.
+
+"We venture to assert that there is not one reader who has not been made
+wiser and better by its perusal--who has not been enabled to treasure up
+golden precepts of morality, virtue, and experience, as guiding
+principles of their own commerce with the world."--_American Courier._
+
+LOVE AFTER MARRIAGE; and other Stories of the Heart. Complete in two
+    volumes, paper cover, price One Dol., or bound in one volume, cloth
+    gilt, $1.25.
+
+"This is a charming and instructive story--one of those beautiful
+efforts that enchant the mind, refreshing and strengthening it."--_City
+Item._
+
+"The work before us is a charming one."--_Boston Evening Journal._
+
+THE BANISHED SON; and other Stories of the Heart. Complete in two
+    volumes, paper cover, price One Dol., or bound in one volume, cloth
+    gilt, $1.25.
+
+"The 'Banished Son' seems to us the _chef d'oeuvre_ of the collection.
+It appeals to all the nobler sentiments of humanity, is full of action
+and healthy excitement, and sets forth the best of morals."--_Charleston
+News._
+
+EOLINE; or, MAGNOLIA VALE. Complete in two volumes, paper cover, price
+    One Dol., or bound in one volume, cloth gilt, $1.25.
+
+"We do not think that amongst American authors, there is one more
+pleasing or more instructive than Mrs. Hentz. This novel is equal to any
+which she has written."--_Cincinnati Gazette._
+
+--> Copies of either edition of any of the foregoing works will be sent
+to any person, to any part of the United States, _free of postage_, on
+their remitting the price of the ones they may wish, to the publisher,
+in a letter.
+
+  Published and for Sale by       T. B. PETERSON,
+      =No. 102 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia.=
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: I REMEMBER A TALE, SHE RESUMED]
+
+
+
+
+                      HELEN AND ARTHUR;
+
+                             OR,
+
+                 Miss Thusa's Spinning Wheel.
+
+
+                 BY MRS. CAROLINE LEE HENTZ.
+  AUTHOR OF "LINDA," "RENA," "LOVE AFTER MARRIAGE," "ROBERT
+      GRAHAM," "EOLINE," "COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE," ETC.
+
+
+    "----A countenance in which did meet
+    Sweet records--promises as sweet--
+    A creature not too bright or good
+    For human nature's daily food;
+    For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
+    Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears and smiles."--_Wordsworth._
+
+    "I know not, I ask not,
+        If guilt's in thy heart--
+    I but know that I love thee,
+        Whatever thou art."--_Moore._
+
+
+                        Philadelphia:
+           T. B. PETERSON, NO. 102 CHESTNUT STREET.
+
+
+
+
+  Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1853, by
+                        DEACON & PETERSON,
+  In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States,
+  in and for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.
+
+
+                  Printed by T. K & P. G Collins.
+
+
+
+
+MISS THUSA'S SPINNING-WHEEL.
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+    "First Fear his hand its skill to try,
+      Amid the chords bewildered laid--
+    And back recoiled, he knew not why,
+      E'en at the sound himself had made."--_Collins._
+
+
+Little Helen sat in her long flannel night-dress, by the side of Miss
+Thusa, watching the rapid turning of her wheel, and the formation of the
+flaxen thread, as it glided out, a more and more attenuated filament,
+betwixt the dexterous fingers of the spinner.
+
+It was a blustering, windy night, and the window-panes rattled every now
+and then, as if the glass were about to shiver in twain, while the stars
+sparkled and winked coldly without, and the fire glowed warmly, and
+crackled within.
+
+Helen was seated on a low stool, so near the wheel, that several times
+her short, curly hair mingled with the flax of the distaff, and came
+within a hair's breadth of being twisted into thread.
+
+"Get a little farther off, child, or I'll spin you into a spider's web,
+as sure as you're alive," said Miss Thusa, dipping her fingers into the
+gourd, which hung at the side of the distaff, while at the same time she
+stooped down and moistened the fibres, by slipping them through her
+mouth, as it glided over the dwindling flax.
+
+Helen, wrapped in yellow flannel from head to feet, with her little
+white face peeping above, looked not unlike a pearl in golden setting. A
+muslin night-cap perched on the top of her head, below which her hair
+frisked about in defiance of comb or ribbon. The cheek next to the fire
+was of a burning red, the other perfectly colorless. Her eyes, which
+always looked larger and darker by night than by day, were fixed on Miss
+Thusa's face with a mixture of reverence and admiration, which its
+external lineaments did not seem to justify. The outline of that face
+was grim, and the hair, profusely sprinkled with the ashes of age, was
+combed back from the brow, in the fashion of the Shakers, adding much to
+the rigid expression of the features. A pair of dark-rimmed spectacles
+bestrided her forehead midway, appearing more for ornament than use.
+Never did Nature provide a more convenient resting-place for
+twin-glasses, than the ridge of Miss Thusa's nose, which rose with a
+sudden, majestic elevation, suggesting the idea of unexpectedness in the
+mind of the beholder. Every thing was harsh about her face, except the
+eyes, which had a soft, solemn, misty look, a look of prophecy, mingled
+with kindness and compassion, as if she pitied the evils her
+far-reaching vision beheld, but which she had not the power to avert.
+Those soft, solemn, prophetic eyes had the power of fascination on the
+imagination of the young Helen, and night after night she would creep to
+her side, after her mother had prepared her for bed, heard her little
+Protestant _pater noster_, and left her, as she supposed, just ready to
+sink into the deep slumbers of childhood. She did not know the strange
+influence which was acting so powerfully on the mind of her child, _or_
+rather she did not seem to be aware that her child was old enough to
+receive impressions, deep and lasting as life itself.
+
+Miss Thusa was a relic of antiquity, bequeathed by destiny to the
+neighborhood in which she dwelt,--a lone woman, without a single known
+relative or connection. Though the title of Aunt is generally given to
+single ladies, who have passed the meridian of their days, irrespective
+of the claims of consanguinity, no one dared to call her Aunt Thusa, so
+great was her antipathy to the name. She had an equal abhorrence to
+being addressed as _Mrs._, an honor frequently bestowed on venerable
+spinsters. She said it did not belong to her, and she disdained to shine
+in borrowed colors. So she retained her virgin distinction, which she
+declared no earthly consideration would induce her to resign.
+
+She had formerly lived with a bachelor brother, a sickly misanthropist,
+who had long shunned the world, and, as a natural consequence, was
+neglected by it. But when it was known that the invalid was growing
+weaker and weaker, and entirely dependent on the cares of his lonely
+sister, the sympathies of strangers were awakened, and forcing their way
+into the chamber of the sick man, they administered to his sufferings
+and wants, till Miss Thusa learned to estimate, at its true value, the
+kindness she at first repelled. After the death of the brother, the
+families which composed the neighborhood where they dwelt, feeling
+compassion for her loneliness and sorrow, invited her to divide her time
+among them, and make their homes her own. One of her eccentricities (and
+she had more than one,) was a passion for spinning on a little wheel.
+Its monotonous hum had long been the music of her lonely life; the
+distaff, with its swaddling bands of flax, the petted child of her
+affections, and the thread which she manufactured the means of her daily
+support. Wherever she went, her wheel preceded her, as an _avant
+courier_, after the fashion of the shields of ancient warriors.
+
+"Ah! Miss Thusa's coming--I know it by her wheel!" was the customary
+exclamation, sometimes uttered in a tone of vexation, but more
+frequently of satisfaction. She was so original and eccentric, had such
+an inexhaustible store of ghost stories and fairy tales, sang so many
+crazy old ballads, that children gathered round her, as a Sibylline
+oracle, and mothers, who were not troubled with a superfluity of
+servants, were glad to welcome one to their household who had such a
+wondrous talent for amusing them, and keeping them still. In spite of
+all her oddities, she was respected for her industry and simplicity, and
+a certain quaint, old-fashioned, superstitious piety, that made a streak
+of light through her character.
+
+Grateful for the kindness and hospitality so liberally extended towards
+her, she never left a household without a gift of the most beautiful,
+even, fine, flaxen thread for the family use. Indeed the fame of her
+spinning spread far and wide, and people from adjoining towns often sent
+orders for quantities of Miss Thusa's marvelous thread.
+
+She was now the guest of Mrs. Gleason, the mother of Helen, who always
+appropriated to her use a nice little room in a snug corner of the
+house, where she could turn her wheel from morning till night, and bend
+over her beloved distaff. Helen, who was too young to be sent to school
+by day, or to remain in the family sitting-room at night, as her mother
+followed the good, healthy rule of _early to bed_ and _early to rise_,
+seemed thrown by fate upon Miss Thusa's miraculous resources for
+entertainment and instruction. Thus her imagination became
+preternaturally developed, while the germs of reason and judgment lay
+latent and unquickened.
+
+"Please stop spinning Miss Thusa, and tell me a story," said the child,
+venturing to put her little foot on the treadle, and giving the crank a
+sudden jerk.
+
+"Yes! Don't tease--I must smooth the flax on the distaff and wet the
+thread on the spindle first. There--that will do. Come, yellow bird,
+jump into my lap, and say what you want me to tell you. Shall it he the
+gray kitten, with the big bunch of keys on its neck, that turned into a
+beautiful princess, or the great ogre, who killed all the little
+children he could find for breakfast and supper?"
+
+"No," replied Helen, shuddering with a strange mixture of horror and
+delight. "I want to hear something you never told before."
+
+"Well--I will tell you the story of the _worm-eaten traveler_. It is
+half singing, half talking, and a powerful story it is. I would act it
+out, too, if you would sit down in the corner till I've done. Let go of
+me, if you want to hear it."
+
+"Please Miss Thusa," said the excited child, drawing her stool into the
+corner, and crouching herself upon it, while Miss Thusa rose up, and
+putting back her wheel, prepared to commence her heterogeneous
+performance. She often "_acted out_" her stories and songs, to the great
+admiration of children and the amusement of older people, but it was
+very seldom this favor was granted, without earnest and reiterated
+entreaties. It was the first time she had ever spontaneously offered to
+personate the Sibyl, whose oracles she uttered, and it was a proof that
+an unusual fit of inspiration was upon her.
+
+She was very tall and spare. When in the attitude of spinning, she
+stooped over her distaff, she lost much of her original height, but the
+moment she pushed aside her wheel, her figure resumed its naturally
+erect and commanding position. She usually wore a dress of dark gray
+stuff, with immense pockets, a black silk neckerchief folded over her
+shoulders, a white tamboured muslin cap, with a black ribbon passed two
+or three times round the crown. To preserve the purity of the muslin,
+and the lustre of the ribbon, she always wore a piece of white paper,
+folded up between her head and the muslin, making the top of the cap
+appear much more opaque than the rest.
+
+The _worm-eaten traveler_! What an appalling, yet fascinating
+communication! Helen waited in breathless impatience, watching the
+movements of the Sibyl, with darkened pupils and heaving bosom.
+
+At length when a sudden gust of wind blew a naked bough, with a sound
+like the rattling of dry bones against the windows, and a falling brand
+scattered a shower of red sparks over the hearth-stone, Miss Thusa,
+waving the bony fingers of her right hand, thus began--
+
+"Once there was a woman spinning by the kitchen fire, spinning away for
+dear life, all living alone, without even a green-eyed cat to keep her
+from being lonely. The coals were all burnt to cinders, and the shadows
+were all rolled up in black bundles in the four corners of the room. The
+woman went on spinning, singing as she spun--
+
+    'Oh! if I'd good company--if I'd good company,
+    Oh! how happy should I be!'
+
+There was a rustling noise in the chimney as if a great chimney-swallow
+was tumbling down, and the woman stooped and looked up into the black
+flue."
+
+Here Miss Thusa bowed her tall form, and turned her beaked nose up
+towards the glowing chimney. Helen, palpitating with excitement followed
+her motions, expecting to see some horrible monster descend all grim
+with soot.
+
+"Down came a pair of broad, dusty, skeleton feet," continued Miss Thusa,
+recoiling a few paces from the hearth, and lowering her voice till it
+sounded husky and unnatural, "right down the chimney, right in front of
+the woman, who cried out, while she turned her wheel round and round
+with her bobbin, 'What makes your feet so big, my friend?' 'Traveling
+long journeys. Traveling long journeys,' replied the skeleton feet, and
+again the woman sang--
+
+    'Oh! if I'd good company--if I'd good company,
+    Oh! how happy should I be!'
+
+Rattle--rattle went something in the chimney, and down came a pair of
+little mouldering ankles. 'What makes your ankles so small?' asked the
+woman. 'Worm-eaten, worm-eaten,' answered the mouldering ankles, and the
+wheel went merrily round."
+
+It is unnecessary to repeat the couplet which Miss Thusa sang between
+every descending _horror_, in a voice which sounded as if it came
+through a fine-toothed comb, in little trembling wires, though it gave
+indescribable effect to her gloomy tale.
+
+"In a few moments," continued Miss Thusa, "she heard a shoving, pushing
+sound in the chimney like something groaning and laboring against the
+sides of the bricks, and presently a great, big, bloated body came down
+and set itself on legs that were no larger than a pipe stem. Then a
+little, scraggy neck, and, last of all, a monstrous skeleton head that
+grinned from ear to ear. 'You want good company, and you shall have it,'
+said the figure, and its voice did sound awfully--but the woman put up
+her wheel and asked the grim thing to take a chair and make himself at
+home.
+
+"'I can't stay to-night,' said he, 'I've got a journey to take by the
+moonlight. Come along and let us be company for each other. There is a
+snug little place where we can rest when we're tired.'"
+
+"Oh! Miss Thusa, she didn't go, did she?" interrupted Helen, whose eyes,
+which had been gradually enlarging, looked like two full midnight moons.
+
+"Hush, child, if you ask another question, I'll stop short. She didn't
+do anything else but go, and they must have been a pretty sight walking
+in the moonlight together. The lonely woman and the worm-eaten traveler.
+On they went through the woods and over the plains, and up hill and down
+hill, over bridges made of fallen trees, and streams that had no bridges
+at all; when at last they came to a kind of uneven ground, and as the
+moon went behind a cloud, they went stumbling along as if treading over
+hillocks of corn.
+
+"'Here it is,' cried the worm-eaten traveler, stopping on the brink of a
+deep, open grave. The moon looked forth from behind a cloud, and showed
+how awful deep it was. She wanted to turn back then, but the skeleton
+arms of the figure seized hold of her, and down they both went without
+ladder or rope, and no mortal ever set eyes on them more.
+
+    'Oh! if I'd good company--if I'd good company,
+    Oh! how happy should I be!'"
+
+It is impossible to describe the intensity with which Helen listened to
+this wild, dark legend, crouching closer and closer to the chimney
+corner, while the chillness of superstitious terror quenched the burning
+fire-rose on her cheek.
+
+"Was the spinning woman _you_, Miss Thusa?" whispered she, afraid of the
+sound of her own voice; "and did you see _it_ with your own eyes?"
+
+"Hush, foolish child!" said Miss Thusa, resuming her natural tone; "ask
+me no questions, or I'll tell you no tales. 'Tis time for the yellow
+bird to be in its nest. Hark! I hear your mother calling me, and 'tis
+long past your bed-time. Come."
+
+And Miss Thusa, sweeping her long right arm around the child, bore her
+shrinking and resisting towards the nursery room.
+
+"Please, Miss Thusa," she pleaded, "don't leave me alone. Don't leave me
+in the dark. I'm not one bit sleepy--I never shall go to sleep--I'm
+afraid of the worm-eaten man."
+
+"I thought the child had more sense," exclaimed the oracle. "I didn't
+think she was such a little goose as this," continued she, depositing
+her between the nice warm blankets. "Nobody ever troubles good little
+girls--the holy angels take care of them. There, good night--shut your
+eyes and go to sleep."
+
+"Please don't take the light," entreated Helen, "only just leave it till
+I get to sleep; I'll blow it out as soon as I'm asleep."
+
+"I guess you will," said Miss Thusa, "when you get a chance." Then
+catching up the lamp, she shot out of the room, repeating to herself,
+"Poor child! She does hate the dark so! That _was_ a powerful story, to
+be sure. I shouldn't wonder if she dreamed about it. I never did see a
+child that listens to anything as she does. It's a pleasure to amuse
+her. Little monkey! She really acts as if 'twas all true. I know that's
+my master piece; that is the reason I'm so choice of it. It isn't every
+one that can tell a story as I can--that's certain. It's my _gift_--I
+mustn't be proud of it. God gives some persons one talent, and some
+another. We must all give an account of them at last. I hope 'twill
+never be said I've hid mine in a napkin."
+
+Such was the tenor of Miss Thusa's thoughts as she wended her way down
+stairs. Had she imagined half the misery she was entailing on this
+singularly susceptible and imaginative child, instead of exulting in her
+_gift_, she would have mourned over its influence, in dust and ashes.
+The fears which Helen expressed, and which she believed would prove as
+evanescent as they were unreal, were a grateful incense to her genius,
+which she delighted with unconscious cruelty in awakening. She had an
+insane passion for relating these dreadful legends, whose indulgence
+seemed necessary to her existence, and the happiness of the narrator was
+commensurate with the credulity of the auditor. Without knowing it, she
+was a vampire, feeding on the life-blood of a young and innocent heart,
+and drying up the fountain of its joys.
+
+Helen listened till the last sound of Miss Thusa's footsteps died away
+on the ear, then plunging deeper into the bed, drew the blankets over
+head and ears, and lay immovable as a snow-drift, with the chill dew of
+terror oozing from every pore.
+
+"I'm not a good girl," said the child to herself, "and God wont send the
+angels down to take care of me to-night. I played going to meeting with
+my dolls last Sunday, and Miss Thusa says that was breaking the
+commandments. I'll say my prayers over again, and ask God to forgive
+me."
+
+Little Helen clasped her trembling hands under the bed-cover, and
+repeated the Lord's Prayer as devoutly and reverentially as mortal lips
+could utter it, but this act of devotion did not soothe her into
+slumber, or banish the phantom that flitted round her couch. Finding it
+impossible to breathe under the bed-cover any longer, and fearing to die
+of suffocation, she slowly emerged from her burying-clothes till her
+mouth came in contact with the cool, fresh air. She kept her eyes
+tightly closed, that she might not see the _darkness_. She remembered
+hearing her brother, who prided himself upon being a great
+mathematician, say that if one counted ten, over and over again, till
+they were very tired, they would fall asleep without knowing it. She
+tried this experiment, but her heart kept time with its loud, quick
+beatings; so loud, so quick, she sometimes mistook them for the skeleton
+foot-tramps of the traveler. She was sure she heard a rustling in the
+chimney, a clattering against the walls. She thought she felt a chilly
+breath sweep over her cheek. At length, unable to endure the awful
+oppression of her fears, she resolved to make a desperate attempt, and
+rush down stairs to her mother, telling her she should die if she
+remained where she was. It was horrible to go down alone in the
+darkness, it was more horrible to remain in that haunted room. So,
+gathering up all her courage, she jumped from the bed, and sought the
+door with her nervous, grasping hands. Her little feet turned to ice, as
+their naked soles scampered over the bare floor, but she did not mind
+that; she found the door, opened it, and entered a long, dark passage,
+leading to the stairway. Then she recollected that on the left of that
+passage there was a lumber-room, running out slantingly to the eaves of
+the house, with a low entrance into it, which was left without a door.
+This lumber-room had long been her especial terror. Whenever she passed
+it, even in broad daylight, it had a strange, mysterious appearance to
+her. The twilight shadows always gathered there first and lingered last;
+she never walked by it--she always ran with all her speed, as if the
+avenger of blood were behind her. Now she would have flown if she could,
+but her long night dress impeded her motions, and clung adhesively round
+her ankles. Once she trod upon it, and thinking some one arrested her,
+she uttered a loud scream and sprang forward through the door, which
+chanced to be open. This door was directly at the head of the stairs,
+and it is not at all surprising that Helen, finding it impossible to
+recover her equilibrium, should pass over the steps in a quicker manner
+than she intended, swift as her footsteps were. Down she went, tumbling
+and bumping, till she came against the lower door with a force that
+burst it open, and in rolled a yellow flannel ball into the centre of
+the illuminated apartment.
+
+"My stars!" exclaimed Mrs. Gleason, starting up from the centre table,
+and dropping a bundle of snowy linen on the floor.
+
+"What in the name of creation is this?" cried Mr. Gleason, throwing down
+his book, as the yellow ball rolled violently against his legs.
+
+Louis Gleason, a boy of twelve, who was seated with the fingers of his
+left hand playing hide and seek among his bright elf locks, while his
+right danced over a slate, making algebra signs with marvelous rapidity,
+jumped up three feet in the air, letting his slate fall with a
+tremendous crash, and destroying many a beautiful equation.
+
+Mittie Gleason, a young girl of about nine, who was deep in the
+abstractions of grammar, and sat with her fore-fingers in her ears, and
+her head bent down to her book, so that all disturbing sounds might be
+excluded, threw her chair backward in the fright, and ran head first
+against Miss Thusa, who was the only one whose self-possession did not
+seem shocked by the unceremonious entrance of the little visitor.
+
+"It's nobody in the world but little Helen," said she, gathering up the
+bundle in her arms and carrying it towards the blazing fire. The child,
+who had been only stunned, not injured by the fall, began to recover the
+use of its faculties, and opened its large, wild-looking eyes on the
+family group we have described.
+
+"She has been walking in her sleep, poor little thing," said her mother,
+pressing her cold hands in both hers.
+
+Helen knew that this was not the case, and she knew too, that it was
+wrong to sanction by her silence an erroneous impression, but she was
+afraid of her father's anger if she confessed the truth, afraid that he
+would send her back to the dark room and lonely trundle-bed. She
+expected that Miss Thusa would call her a foolish child, and tell her
+parents all her terrors of the _worm-eaten traveler_, and she raised her
+timid eyes to her face, wondering at her silence. There was something in
+those prophetic orbs, which she could not read. There seemed to be a
+film over them, baffling her penetration, and she looked down with a
+long, laboring breath.
+
+Miss Thusa began to feel that her legends might make a deeper impression
+than she imagined or intended. She experienced an odd mixture of triumph
+and regret--triumph in her power, and regret for its consequences. She
+had, too, an instinctive sense that the parents of Helen would be
+displeased with her, were they aware of the influence she had exerted,
+and deprive her hereafter of the most admiring auditor that ever hung on
+her oracular lips. She had _meant_ no harm, but she was really sorry she
+had told that "powerful story" at such a late hour, and pressed the
+child closer in her arms with a tenderness deepened by self-reproach.
+
+"I suspect Miss Thusa has been telling her some of her awful ghost
+stories," said Louis, laughing over the wreck of his slate. "I know what
+sent the yellow caterpillar crawling down stairs."
+
+"Crawling!" repeated his father, "I think it was leaping, bouncing, more
+like a catamount than a caterpillar."
+
+"I would be ashamed to be a coward and afraid of ghosts," exclaimed
+Mittie, with a scornful flash of her bright, black eyes.
+
+"Miss Thusa didn't tell about ghosts," said Helen, bursting into a
+passion of tears. This was true, in the _letter_, but not in the
+_spirit_--and, young as she was, she knew and felt it, and the wormwood
+of remorse gave bitterness to her tears. Never had she felt so wretched,
+so humiliated. She had fallen in her own estimation. Her father, brother
+and sister had ridiculed her and _called her names_--a terrible thing
+for a child. One had called her a _caterpillar_, another a _catamount_,
+and a third a _coward_. And added to all this was a sudden and
+unutterable horror of the color of yellow, formerly her favorite hue.
+She mentally resolved never to wear that horrible yellow night dress,
+which had drawn upon her so many odious epithets, even though she froze
+to death without it. She would rather wear her old ones, even if they
+had ten thousand patches, than that bright, new, golden tinted garment,
+so late the object of her intense admiration.
+
+"I declare," cried Louis, unconscious of the Spartan resolution his
+little sister was forming, and good naturedly seeking to turn her tears
+into smiles, "I do declare, I thought Helen was a pumpkin, bursting into
+the room with such a noise, wrapped up in this yellow concern. Mother,
+what in the name of all that's tasteful, makes you clothe her by night
+in Chinese mourning?"
+
+"It was her own choice," replied Mrs. Gleason, taking the weeping child
+in her own lap. "She saw a little girl dressed in this style, and
+thought she would be perfectly happy to be the possessor of such a
+garment."
+
+"I never will put it on again as long as I live," sobbed Helen. "Every
+body laughs at it."
+
+"Perhaps somebody else will have a word to say about it," said her
+mother, in a grave, gentle voice. "When I have taken so much pains to
+make it, and bind it with soft, bright ribbon, to please my little girl,
+it seems to me that it is very ungrateful in her to make such a remark
+as that."
+
+"Oh, mother, don't," was all Helen could utter; and she made as strong a
+counter resolve that she would wear the most hideous garment, and brave
+the ridicule of the whole world, rather than expose herself to the
+displeasure of a mother so kind and so indulgent.
+
+"You had better put her back in bed," said Mr. Gleason; "children
+acquire such bad habits by indulgence."
+
+Helen trembled and clung close to her mother's bosom.
+
+"I fear she may again rise in her sleep and fall down stairs," said the
+more anxious mother.
+
+"Turn the key on the outside, till we retire ourselves," observed the
+father.
+
+To be locked up alone in the darkness! Helen felt as if she had heard
+her death-warrant, and pale even to _blueness_, she leaned against her
+mother, incapable of articulating the prayer that trembled on her ashy
+lips.
+
+"Give her to me," said Miss Thusa, "I will take her up stairs and stay
+with her till you come."
+
+"Oh, no, there is no fire in the room, and you will be cold. Mr.
+Gleason, the child is sick and faint. She has scarcely any pulse--and
+look, what a blue shade round her mouth. Helen, my darling, do tell me
+what _is_ the matter with you."
+
+"Her eyes do look very wild," said her father, catching the infection of
+his wife's fears; "and her temples are hot and throbbing. I hope she is
+not threatened with an inflammation of the brain."
+
+"Oh! Mr. Gleason, pray don't suggest such a thought; I cannot bear it,"
+cried Mrs. Gleason, with quivering accents. They had lost one lovely
+child, the very counterpart of Helen, by that fearful disease, and she
+felt as if the gleaming sword of the destroying angel were again waving
+over her household.
+
+"You had better send for the doctor," she continued; "just so suddenly
+was our lost darling attacked."
+
+Mr. Gleason started up and seized his hat, but Louis sprang to the door
+first.
+
+"Let me go, father--I can run the fastest."
+
+And those who met the excited boy running through the street, supposed
+it was a life-errand on which he was dispatched.
+
+The doctor came--not the old family physician, whose age and experience
+entitled him to the most implicit confidence--but a youthful partner, to
+whom childhood was a mysterious and somewhat unapproachable thing.
+
+Of what fine, almost imperceptible links is the chain of deception
+formed! Helen had no intention of acting the part of a dissembler when
+she formed the desperate resolution of leaving her lonely chamber. She
+expected to meet reproaches, perhaps punishment, but anything was
+preferable to the horrors of her own imagination. But when she found
+herself greeted as a sleep-walker, she had not the moral courage to
+close, by an avowal of the truth, the door of escape a mother's gentle
+hand had unconsciously opened. She did nut mean to dissemble sickness,
+but when her mother pleaded sickness as a reason for not sending her
+back to the lone, dark chamber, she yielded to the plea, and really
+began to think herself very ill. Her head did throb and ache, and her
+eyes burned, as if hot sand were sprinkled over the balls. She was not
+afraid of the doctor's medicine, for the last time he had prescribed for
+her, he had given her peppermint, dropped on white sugar, which had a
+very pleasing and palatable taste. She loved the old doctor, with his
+frosty hair and sunny smile, and lay quietly in her mother's arms, quite
+resigned to her fate, surprising as it was. But when she beheld a
+strange and youthful face bending over her, with a pair of penetrating,
+dark eyes, that looked as if they could read the deepest secrets of the
+heart, she shrank back in dismay, assured the mystery of her illness
+would all be revealed. The next glance reassured her. She was sure he
+would be kind, and not give her anything nauseous or dreadful. She
+watched his cheek, as he leaned over her, to feel her pulse, wondering
+what made such a beautiful color steal over it growing brighter and
+brighter, till it looked as if the fire had been glowing upon it. She
+did not know how very young he was, and this was the first time he had
+ever been called to visit a patient alone, and that she, little child as
+she was, was a very formidable object to him--considered as a being for
+whose life he might be in a measure responsible.
+
+"I would give her a composing mixture," said he, gently releasing the
+slender wrist of his patient--"her brain seems greatly excited, but I do
+not apprehend anything like an inflammation need be dreaded. She is very
+nervous, and must be kept quiet."
+
+Helen felt such inexpressible relief, that forgetting her character of
+an invalid, she lifted her head, and gave him such a radiant look of
+gratitude it quite startled him.
+
+"See!" exclaimed Louis, rubbing his hands, "how bright she looks. The
+doctor's coming has made her well."
+
+"Don't make such a fuss, brother, I can't study," cried Mittie, tossing
+her hair impatiently from her brow. "I don't believe she's any more sick
+than I am, she just does it to be petted."
+
+"Mittie!" said her mother, glancing towards the young doctor.
+
+Mittie, with a sudden motion of the head peculiar to herself, brought
+the hair again over her face, till it touched the leaves of the book, in
+whose contents she seemed absorbed; but she peeped at the young doctor
+through her thick, falling locks, and thought if she were sick, she
+would much rather send for him than old Doctor Sennar.
+
+The next morning Helen was really ill and feverish. The excitement of
+the previous evening had caused a tension of the brain, which justified
+the mother's fears. At night she became delirious, and raved
+incoherently about _the worm-eaten traveler_, the spinning-woman, and
+the grave-house to which they were bound.
+
+Mrs. Gleason sat on one side of her, holding her restless hand in hers,
+while Miss Thusa applied wet napkins to her burning temples. The mother
+shuddered as she listened to the child's wild words, and something of
+the truth flashed upon her mind.
+
+"I fear," said she, raising her eyes, and fixing them mildly but
+reproachfully on Miss Thusa's face--"you have been exciting my little
+girl's imagination in a dangerous manner, by relating tales of dreadful
+import. I know you have done it in kindness," added she, fearful of
+giving pain, "but Helen is different from other children, and cannot
+bear the least excitement."
+
+"She's always asking me to tell her stories," answered Miss Thusa, "and
+I love the dear child too well to deny her. There is something very
+uncommon about her. I never saw a child that would set and listen to old
+people as she will. I never did think she would live to grow up; she
+wasn't well last night, or she wouldn't have been scared; I noticed that
+one cheek was red as a cherry, and the other as white as snow--a sign
+the fever was in her blood."
+
+Miss Thusa, like many other metaphysicians, mistook the effect for the
+cause, and thus stilled, with unconscious sophistry, the upbraidings of
+her conscience.
+
+Helen here tossed upon her feverish couch, and opening her eyes, looked
+wildly towards the chimney.
+
+"Hark! Miss Thusa," she exclaimed, "it's coming. Don't you hear it
+clattering down the chimney? Don't leave me--don't leave me in the
+dark--I'm afraid--I'm afraid."
+
+It was well for Miss Thusa that Mr. Gleason was not present, to hear the
+ravings of his child, or his doors would hereafter have been barred
+against her. Mrs. Gleason, while she mourned over the consequences of
+her admission, would as soon have cut off her own right hand as she
+would have spoken harshly or unkindly to the poor, lone woman. She
+warned her, however, from feeding, in this insane manner, the morbid
+imagination of her child, and gently forbid her ever repeating _that
+awful story_, which had made, apparently, so dark and deep an
+impression.
+
+"Above all things, my dear Miss Thusa," said she, repressing a little
+dry, hacking cough, that often interrupted her speech--"never give her
+any horrible idea of death. I know that such impressions can never be
+effaced--I know it by my own experience. The grave has ever been to me a
+gloomy subject of contemplation, though I gaze upon it with the lamp of
+faith in my hand, and the remembrance that the Son of God made His bed
+in its darkness, that light might be left there for me and mine."
+
+Miss Thusa looked at Mrs. Gleason as she uttered these sentiments, and
+the glance of her solemn eye grew earnest as she gazed. Such was the
+usual quietness and reserve of the speaker, she was not prepared for so
+much depth of thought and feeling. As she gazed, too, she remarked an
+appearance of emaciation and suffering about her face, which had
+hitherto escaped her observation. She recollected her as she first saw
+her, a beautiful and blooming woman, and now there was bloom without
+beauty, and brightness without beauty, for the color on the cheek and
+the gleam of the eye, made one wish for pallor and dimness, as less
+painful and less prophetic.
+
+"Yes, Miss Thusa," resumed Mrs. Gleason, after a long pause, "if my
+child lives, I wish her guarded most carefully from all gloomy
+influences. I know that I must soon leave her, for I have an hereditary
+malady, whose symptoms have lately been much aggravated. I have long
+since resigned myself to my doom, knowing that my Heavenly Father knows
+when it is best to call me home. But I cannot bear that my children
+should shrink from all I shall leave behind, my memory. Louis is a bold
+and noble boy. I fear not for him. His reason even now has the strength
+of manhood. Mittie has very little sensibility or imagination; too
+little of the first I fear to be very lovable. But perhaps it will be
+better for her in the end. Helen is all sensibility and imagination. I
+tremble for her. I am haunted by a strange apprehension that my memory
+will be a ghost that she will seek to shun. Oh! Miss Thusa, you cannot
+think how painful this idea is to me. I want her to love me when I am
+gone, to think of me as a guardian angel watching over and blessing her.
+I want her to think of me as living in Heaven, not mouldering away in
+the cold ground. Promise me that you will never more give her any
+terrible idea associated with death and the grave."
+
+Mrs. Gleason paused, and pressing her handkerchief over her eyes, leaned
+back in her chair with a deep sigh. Was this the quiet, practical
+housekeeper, who always went with stilly steps so noiselessly about her
+daily tasks that no one would think she was doing anything if it were
+not for the results?
+
+Was _she_ talking of dying, who had never yet omitted one household
+duty or one neighborly office? Yes! in the stillness of the night,
+interrupted only by the delirious moanings of the sick child, she laid
+aside the mantle of reserve that usually enveloped her, and suffered her
+soul to be visible--for a little while.
+
+"I will try to remember all you've said, and abide by it," said Miss
+Thusa, who, in her dark gray dress, and black silk handkerchief tied
+under her chin, looked something like a cowled friar, of "orders gray,"
+"but when one has a _gift_ it's hard to keep it back. I don't always
+know myself what I'm going to tell, but speak as I'm moved, as the Bible
+men used to do in old times. Every body has a way and a taste of their
+own, I know, and some take to one thing, and some to another. Now, I
+always did take to what some folks thinks dreadful things. Perhaps it's
+because I've been a lone woman, and led a sort of spiritual life. I
+never took any pleasure in merry-making and frolicking. I'd rather go to
+a funeral than a wedding, any day, and I'd rather look at a shrouded
+corpse, than a bride tricked out in her laces and flowers. I know it's
+strange, but it's true--and there's no use in going against the natural
+grain. You can't do it. If I take up a newspaper, I see the deaths and
+murders before anything else. They stare one right in the face, and I
+don't see anything else."
+
+"What a very peculiar temperament," said Mrs. Gleason, thoughtfully.
+"Were you conscious of the same tastes when a child?"
+
+"I can hardly remember being a child. It seems to me I never was one. I
+always had such old feelings. My father and mother died when I was a
+baby. There was nobody left but my brother--and--me. He was the
+strangest being that ever lived. He locked up his heart and kept the
+key, so nobody could get a peep inside. I had nobody to love, nobody who
+loved me, so I got to loving my spinning-wheel and my own thoughts. When
+brother fell sick and grew nervous and peevish, he didn't like the hum
+of the wheel, and I had to spin at night in the chimney corner, by the
+flash of the embers, and the company I was to myself the Lord only
+knows. I'll tell you what, Mrs. Gleason," added she, taking her
+spectacles from her forehead, wiping them carefully, and then putting
+them right on the top of her head, "God didn't mean every body to be
+alike. Some look up and some look down, but if they've got the right
+spirit, they're all looking after God and truth. If I talk of the grave
+more than common, it's because I know it's nothing but an underground
+passage to eternity."
+
+"I thank God for teaching me to look upward at last," cried Mrs.
+Gleason, and the quick, panting breath of little Helen was heard
+distinctly in the silence that followed. Her soul reached forward
+anxiously into futurity. If it were possible to change Miss Thusa's
+opinions and peculiarities into something after the similitude of her
+kind! Change Miss Thusa! As soon might you expect to change the gnarled
+and rooted oak into the flexible and breeze-bowed willow. Her
+idiosyncrasy had been so nursed and strengthened by the two great
+influences, time and solitude, it spread like the banyan tree, making a
+dark pavilion, where legions of weird spirits gathered and revelled.
+
+Miss Thusa is one instance out of many, of a being with strong mind and
+warm heart, cheated of objects on which to expend the vigor of the one,
+or the fervor of the other. The energies of her character, finding no
+legitimate outlet, beat back upon herself, wearing away by continued
+friction the fine perception of beauty and susceptibility of true
+enjoyment. The vine that finds no support for its _upward_ growth,
+grovels on the earth and covers it with rank, unshapely leaves. The
+mountain stream, turned back from its course, becomes a dark and
+stagnant pool. Even if the rank and long-neglected vine is made to twine
+round some sustaining fabric, it carries with it the dampness and the
+soil of the earth to which it has been clinging. Its tendrils are heavy,
+and have a downward tendency.
+
+In a few days the fever-tide subsided in the veins of Helen.
+
+"I will not take it," said she, when the young doctor gave her some
+bitter draught to swallow; "it tastes too bad."
+
+"You _will_ take it," he replied, calmly, holding the glass in his hand,
+and fixing on her the serene darkness of his eyes. He did not press it
+to her lips, or use any coercion. He merely looked steadfastly, yet
+gently into her face, while the deep color she had noticed the first
+night she saw him came slowly into his cheeks. He did not say "you
+_must_," but "you _will_," and she felt the difference. She felt the
+singular union of gentleness and power exhibited in his countenance, and
+was constrained to yield. Without making farther resistance, she put
+forth her hand, took the glass, and swallowed the potion at one draught.
+
+"It will do you good," said he, with a grave smile, but he did not
+praise her.
+
+"Why didn't you tell me so before?" she asked.
+
+"You must learn to confide in your friends," he replied, passing his
+hand gently over the child's wan brow. "You must trust them, without
+asking them for reasons for what they do."
+
+Helen thought she would try to remember this, and it seemed easy to
+remember what the young doctor said, for the voice of Arthur Hazleton
+was very sweet and clear, and seemed to vibrate on the ear like a
+musical instrument.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+    ----"with burnished neck of verdant gold, erect
+    Amid his circling spires, that on the grass
+    Floated redundant,--she busied heard the sound
+    Of rustling leaves, but minded not, _at first_."--_Milton._
+
+
+Helen recovered, and the agitation caused by her sickness having
+subsided, everything went on apparently as it did before. While she was
+sick, Mrs. Gleason resolved that she would keep her as much as possible
+from Miss Thusa's influence, and endeavor to counteract it by a closer,
+more confiding union with herself. But every one knows how quickly the
+resolutions, formed in the hour of danger, are forgotten in the moment
+of safety--and how difficult it is to break through daily habits of
+life. Even when the pulse beats high with health, and the heart glows
+with conscious energy, it is difficult. How much more so, when the whole
+head is sick, and the whole spirit is faint--when the lightest duty
+becomes a burden, and _rest_, nothing but _rest_, is the prayer of the
+weary soul!
+
+The only perceptible change in the family arrangements was, that Miss
+Thusa carried her wheel at night into the nursery, and installed herself
+there as the guardian of Helen's slumbers. The little somnambulist, as
+she was supposed to be, required a watch, and when Miss Thusa offered to
+sit by the fire-side till the family retired to rest, Mrs. Gleason could
+not be so ungrateful as to refuse, though she ventured to reiterate the
+warning, breathed by the feverish couch of her child. This warning Miss
+Thusa endeavored to bear in mind, and illumined the gloomy grandeur of
+her legends by some lambent rays of fancy--but they were lightning
+flashes playing about ruins, suggesting ideas of desolation and decay.
+
+Let it not be supposed that Helen's life was all shadow. Oh, no! In
+proportion as she shuddered at darkness, and trembled before the
+spectres her own imagination created, she rejoiced in sunshine, and
+revelled in the bright glories of creation. She was all darkness or all
+light. There was no twilight about her. Never had a child a more
+exquisite perception of the beautiful, and as at night she delineated to
+herself the most awful and appalling images that imagination can
+conceive, by day she beheld forms more lovely than ever visited the
+poet's dream. She could see angels cradled on the glowing bosom of the
+sunset clouds, angels braiding the rainbow of the sky. Light to her was
+peopled with angels, as darkness with phantoms. The brilliant-winged
+butterflies were the angels of the flowers--the gales that fanned her
+cheeks the invisible angels of the trees. If Helen had lived in a world
+all of sunshine, she would have been the happiest being in the world.
+Moonlight, too, she loved--it seemed like a dream of the sun. But it was
+only in the presence of others she loved it. She feared to be alone in
+it--it was so still and holy, and then it made such deep shadows where
+it did not shine! Yes! Helen would have been happy in a world of
+sunshine--but we are born for the shadow as well as the sunbeam, and
+they who cannot walk unfearing through the gloom, as well as the
+brightness, are ill-fitted for the pilgrimage of life.
+
+Childhood is naturally prone to superstition and fear. The intensity of
+suffering it endures from these sources is beyond description.
+
+We remember, when a child, with what chillness of awe we used to listen
+to the wind sighing through the long branches of the elm trees, as they
+trailed against the window panes, for nursery legends had associated the
+sound with the moaning of ghosts, and the flapping of invisible wings.
+We remember having strange, indescribable dreams, when the mystery of
+our young existence seemed to press down upon us with the weight of
+iron, and fill us with nameless horror. When a something seemed swelling
+and expanding and rolling in our souls, like an immense, fiery globe
+_within us_, and yet we were carried around with it, and we felt it must
+forever be rolling and enlarging, and we must forever be rolling along
+with it. We remember having this dream night after night, and when we
+awakened, the first thought was _eternity_, and we thought if we went on
+dreaming, we should find out what eternity meant. We were afraid to tell
+the dream, from a vague fear that it was wrong, that it might be
+thought we were trying to pierce into the mystery of God, and it was
+wicked in a child thus to do.
+
+Helen used to say, whenever she fell asleep in the day-time under a
+green tree, or on the shady bank of a stream, as she often did, that she
+had the brightest, most beautiful dreams--and she wished it was the
+_fashion_ for people to sleep by day instead of night.
+
+Slowly, almost imperceptibly Mrs. Gleason's strength wasted away. She
+still kept her place at the family board, and continued her labors of
+love, but the short, dry, hacking cough assumed a more hollow, deeper
+sound, and every day the red spot on her cheek grew brighter, as the
+shades of night came on. Mittie heeded not the change in her mother, but
+the affectionate heart of Louis felt many a sad foreboding, as his
+subdued steps and hushed laugh plainly told. He was naturally joyous and
+gay, even to rudeness, always playing some good-natured but teasing
+prank on his little sister, and making the house ring with his
+merriment. Now, whenever that hollow cough rung in his ears, he would
+start as if a knife pierced him, and it would be a long time before his
+laugh would be heard again. He redoubled his filial attentions, and
+scarcely ever entered the house without bringing something which he
+thought would please her taste, or be grateful to her feelings.
+
+"Mother, see what a nice string of fishes. I am sure you will like
+these."
+
+"Oh! mother, here are the sweetest flowers you ever saw. Do smell of
+them, they are so reviving."
+
+The tender smile, the fond caress which rewarded these love-offerings
+were very precious to the warm-hearted boy, though he often ran out of
+the house to hide the tears they forced into his eyes.
+
+Helen knew that her mother was not well, for she now reclined a great
+deal on the sofa, and Doctor Sennar came to see her every day, and
+sometimes the young doctor accompanied him, and when he did, he always
+took a great deal of notice of her, and said something she could not
+help remembering. Perhaps it was the peculiar glance of his eye that
+fixed the impression, as the characters written in indelible ink are
+pale and illegible till exposed to a slow and gentle fire.
+
+"You ought to do all you can for your mother," said he, while he held
+her in his lap, and Doctor Sennar counted her mother's pulse by the
+ticking of his large gold watch.
+
+"I am too little to do any good," answered she, sighing at her own
+insignificance.
+
+"You can be very still and gentle."
+
+"But that isn't doing anything, is it?"
+
+"When you are older," said the young doctor, "you will find it is harder
+to keep from doing wrong than to do what is right."
+
+Helen did not understand the full force of what he said, but the saying
+remained in her memory.
+
+The next day, and the bloom of early summer was on the plains, and its
+deep, blue glory on the sky, Helen thought again and again what she
+should do for her mother. At length she remembered that some one had
+said that the strawberries were ripe, and that her mother had longed
+exceedingly for a dish of strawberries and cream. This was something
+that even Louis had not done for her, and her heart throbbed with joy
+and exultation in anticipation of the offering she could make.
+
+With a bright tin bucket, that shone like burnished silver in the
+sunbeams, swinging on her arm, she stole out of the back door, and ran
+down a narrow lane, till she came to an open field, where the young corn
+was waving its silken tassels, and potato vines frolicking at its feet.
+The long, shining leaves of the young corn threw off the sunlight like
+polished steel, and Helen thought she had never seen anything so
+beautiful in all her life. She stopped and pulled off the soft, tender,
+green silken tassels, hanging them over her ears, and twisting some in
+her hair, as if she were a mermaid, her "sea-green ringlets braiding."
+Then springing from hillock to hillock, she reached the end of the
+field, and jumped over a fence that skirted a meadow, along which a
+clear, blue stream glided like an azure serpent in glittering coils,
+under the shade of innumerable hickory trees. Helen became so enchanted
+with the beauty of the landscape, that she forgot her mother and the
+strawberries, forgot there were such things as night and darkness in the
+universe. Taking off her shoes and tying them to the handle of her
+bucket, she went down to the edge of the stream, and dipping her feet in
+the cool water, waded along close to the bank, and the little wavelets
+curled round her ankles as if they loved to play with anything so smooth
+and white. Then she saw bright specks of mica shining on the sand, and
+she sprang out of the water to gather them, wondering if pearls and
+diamonds ever looked half so beautiful.
+
+"How I wish strawberries grew under water," cried Helen, suddenly
+recollecting her filial mission. "How I wish they did not grow under the
+long grass!"
+
+The light faded from her face, and the dimness of fear came over it. She
+had an unutterable dread of snakes, for they were the _heroes_ of some
+of Miss Thusa's awful legends, and she knew they lurked in the long
+grass, and were said to be especially fond of strawberries. Strange, in
+her eager desire to do something for her mother, she had forgotten the
+ambushed foe she most dreaded by day--now she wondered she had dared to
+think of coming.
+
+"I will go back," thought she; "I dare not jump over that fence and wade
+about in grass as high as my head."
+
+"You must do all you can for your mother," echoed in clear, silver
+accents in her memory; "Louis will gather them if I do not," continued
+she, "and she will never know how much I love her. All little children
+pick strawberries for themselves, and I never heard of one being bitten
+by a snake. If I pick them for my mother instead of myself, I don't
+believe God will let them hurt me."
+
+While thus meditating, she had reached the fence, and stepping on the
+lower rails, she peeped over into the deep, green patch. As the wind
+waved the grass to and fro, she caught glimpses of the reddening
+berries, and her cheeks glowed with excitement. They were so thick, and
+looked so rich and delicious! She would keep very near the fence, and if
+a snake should crawl near her, she could get upon the topmost rails, and
+it could not reach her there. One jump, and the struggle was over. She
+plunged in a sea of verdure, while the strawberries glowed like coral
+beneath. They hung in large, thick clusters, touching each other, so
+that it would be an easy thing to fill her bucket before the sun went
+down. She would not pick the whole clusters, because some were green
+still, and she had heard her mother say, that it was a waste of God's
+bounty, and a robbery of those who came afterwards, to pluck and destroy
+unripe fruit. Several times she started, thinking she heard a rustling
+in the leaves, but it was only the wind whispering to them as it passed.
+She stained her cheeks and the palms of her hands with the crimson
+juice, thinking it would make her mother smile, resolving to look at
+herself in the water as she returned.
+
+Her bucket, which was standing quietly on the ground, was almost full;
+she was stooping down, with her sun-bonnet pushed back from her glowing
+face, to secure the largest and best berries which she had yet seen,
+when she _did_ hear a rustling in the grass very near, and looking
+round, there was a large, long snake, winding slowly, carefully towards
+the bucket, with little gleaming eyes, that looked like burning glass
+set in emerald. It seemed to glow with all the colors of the rainbow, so
+radiant it was in yellow, green and gold, striped with the blackest jet.
+For one moment, Helen stood stupefied with terror, fascinated by the
+terrible beauty of the object on which she was gazing. Then giving a
+loud, shrill shriek, she bounded to the fence, climbed over it, and
+jumped to the ground with a momentum so violent that she fell and rolled
+several paces on the earth. Something cold twined round her feet and
+ankles. With a gasp of despair, Helen gave herself up for lost, assured
+she was in the coils of the snake, and that its venom was penetrating
+through her whole frame.
+
+"I shall die," thought she, "and mother will never know how I came here
+alone to gather strawberries, that she might eat and be well."
+
+As she felt no sting, no pain, and the snake lay perfectly still, she
+ventured to steal a glance at her feet, and saw that it was a piece of a
+vine that she had caught in her flight, and which her fears had
+converted into the embrace of an adder. Springing up with the velocity
+of lightning, she darted along, regardless of the beauty of the stream,
+in whose limpid waters she had thought to behold her crimson-stained
+cheeks. She ran on, panting, glowing--the perspiration, hot as drops of
+molten lead, streaming down her face, looking furtively back, every now
+and then, to see if that gorgeous creature, with glittering coils and
+burning eyes were not gliding at her heels. At length, blinded and dizzy
+from the speed with which she had run, she fell against an opposing body
+just at the entrance of the lane.
+
+"Why, Helen, what is the matter?" exclaimed a well-known voice, and she
+knew she was safe. It was the young doctor, who loved to walk on the
+banks of that beautiful stream, when the shadows of the tall hickories
+lengthened on the grass.
+
+Helen was too breathless to speak, but he knew, by her clinging hold,
+that she sought protection from some real or imaginary danger. While he
+pitied her evident fright, he could not help smiling at her grotesque
+appearance. The perspiration, dripping from her forehead, had made
+channels through the crimson dye on her cheeks, and her chin, which had
+been buried in the ground when she fell, was all covered with mud. Her
+frock was soiled and torn, her bonnet twisted so that the strings hung
+dangling over her shoulder. A more forlorn, wild-looking little figure,
+can scarcely be imagined, and it is not strange that the young doctor
+found it difficult to suppress a laugh.
+
+"And so you left your strawberries behind," said he, after hearing the
+history of her fright and flight. "It seems to me I would not have
+treated the snake so daintily. Suppose we go back and cheat him of his
+nice supper, after all."
+
+"Oh! no--no--no," exclaimed Helen, emphatically. "I wouldn't go for all
+the strawberries in the whole world."
+
+"Not when they would do your sick mother good?" said he, gravely.
+
+"But the snake!" cried she, with a shudder.
+
+"It is perfectly harmless. If you took it in your hand and played with
+it, it would not hurt you. Those beautiful, bright-striped creatures
+have no venom in them. Come, let us step down to the edge of the stream
+and wash the stains from your face and hands, and then you shall show me
+where your strawberries are waiting for us in the long grass."
+
+He took her hand and attempted to draw her along, but she resisted with
+astonishing strength, planting her back against the railing that divided
+the lane from the corn-field.
+
+"Helen, you _will_ come with me," said he, in the same tone, and with
+the same magnetic glance, with which he had once before subdued her.
+She remained still a few moments, then the rigid muscles began to relax,
+and hanging down her head, she sobbed aloud.
+
+"You will come," repeated he, leading her gently along towards the bank
+of the stream, "because you know I would not lead you into danger, and
+because if you do not try to conquer such fears, they will make you very
+unhappy through life. Don't you wish to be useful and do good to others,
+when you grow older?"
+
+"Oh, yes," replied Helen, with animation--"but," added she,
+despondingly, "I never shall."
+
+"It depends upon yourself," replied her friend; "some of the greatest
+men that ever lived, were once timid little children. They made
+themselves great by overcoming their fears, by having a strong will."
+
+They were now close to the water, which, just where they stood, was as
+still and smooth as glass. Helen saw herself in the clear, blue mirror,
+and laughed aloud--then she blushed to think how strange and ugly she
+looked. Eagerly scooping up the water in the hollow of her hand, she
+bathed her face, and removed the disfiguring stains.
+
+"You have no napkin," said the young doctor, taking a snowy linen
+handkerchief from his pocket, which emitted a sweet, faint, rose-like
+perfume. "Will this do?"
+
+He wiped her face, which looked fairer than ever after the ablution, and
+then first one and then the other of her trembling hands, for they still
+trembled from nervous agitation.
+
+"How kind, how good he is!" thought Helen, as his hand passed gently
+over her brow, smoothing back the moist and tangled hair, then glided
+against her cheek, while he arranged the twisted bonnet and untied the
+dangling strings, which had tightened into a hard and obstinate knot. "I
+wonder what makes him so kind and good to me?"
+
+When they came to the fence, surrounding the strawberry-field, Helen's
+steps involuntarily grew slower, and she hung back heavily on the hand
+of her companion. Her old fears came rushing over her, drowning her
+new-born courage.
+
+Arthur laid his hand on the top rail, and vaulted over as lightly as a
+bird, then held out his arms towards her.
+
+"Climb, and I will catch you," said he, with an encouraging smile. Poor
+little Helen felt constrained to obey him, though she turned white as
+snow--and when he took her in his arms, he felt her heart beating and
+fluttering like the wings of a caged humming-bird.
+
+"Ah, I see the silver bucket," he cried, "all filled with strawberries.
+The enemy is fled; the coast is clear."
+
+He still held her in his arms, while he stooped and lifted the bucket,
+then again vaulted over the fence, as if no burden impeded his
+movements.
+
+"You are safe," said he, "and you can now gladden your mother's heart by
+this sweet offering. Are you sorry you came?"
+
+"Oh! no," she replied, "I feel happy now." She insisted upon his eating
+part of the strawberries, but he refused, and as they walked home, he
+gathered green leaves and flowers, and made a garland round them.
+
+"What makes you so good to me?" she exclaimed, with an irresistible
+impulse, looking gratefully in his face.
+
+"Because I like you," he replied; "you remind me, too, of a dear little
+sister of mine, whom I love very tenderly. Poor unfortunate Alice! Your
+lot is happier than hers."
+
+"What makes _me_ happier?" asked Helen, thinking that one who had so
+kind a brother ought to be happy.
+
+"She is blind," he replied, "she never saw one ray of light."
+
+"Oh! how dreadful!" cried Helen, "to live all the time in the dark! Oh!
+I should be afraid to live at all!"
+
+"I said you were happier, Helen; but I recall my words. She is not
+afraid, though all the time midnight shadows surround her. A sweet smile
+usually rests upon her face, and her step is light and springy as the
+grasshopper's leap."
+
+"But it must be so dreadful to be blind!" repeated Helen. "How I do pity
+her!"
+
+"It is a great misfortune, one of the greatest that can be inflicted
+upon a human being--but she does not murmur. She confides in the love of
+those around her, and feels as if their eyes were her own. Were I to ask
+her to walk over burning coals, she would put her hand in mine, to lead
+her, so entire is her trust, so undoubting is her faith."
+
+"How I wish I could be like her!" said Helen, in a tone of deep
+humility.
+
+"You are like her at this moment, for you have gone where you believed
+great danger was lurking, trusting in my promise of protection and
+safety,--trusting in me, who am almost a stranger to you."
+
+Helen's heart glowed within her at his approving words, and she rejoiced
+more than ever that she had obeyed his will. Her sympathies were
+painfully awakened for the blind child, and she asked him a thousand
+questions, which he answered with unwearied patience. She repeated over
+and over again the sweet name of Alice, and wished it were hers, instead
+of Helen.
+
+At the great double gate, that opened into the wood-yard, Arthur left
+her, and she hastened on, proud of the victory she had obtained over
+herself. Mittie was standing in the back door; as Helen came up the
+steps, she pointed in derision at her soiled and disordered dress.
+
+"I couldn't help it," said Helen, trying to pass her, "I fell down."
+
+"Oh! what nice strawberries!" exclaimed Mittie, "and so many of them.
+Give me some."
+
+"Don't touch them, Mittie--they are for mother," cried Helen, spreading
+her hand over the top of the bucket, as Mittie seized the handle and
+jerked it towards her.
+
+"You little, stingy thing, I _will_ have some," cried Mittie, plunging
+her hand in the midst of them, while the sweet wild flowers which
+Arthur's hand had scattered over them, and the shining leaves with which
+he had bordered them, all fell on the steps. Helen felt as if scalding
+water were pouring into her veins, and in her passion she lifted her
+hand to strike her, when a hollow cough, issuing from her mother's room,
+arrested her. She remembered, too, what the young doctor had said, "that
+it was harder to keep from doing wrong, than to do what was right."
+
+"If he saw me strike Mittie, he would think it wrong," thought she,
+"though if he knew how bad she treats me, he'd say 'twas hard to keep
+from it."
+
+Kneeling on one knee, she picked up the scattered flowers, and on every
+flower a dew drop fell, and sparkled on its petals.
+
+They had a witness of whom they were not aware. The tall, gray figure of
+Miss Thusa, appeared in the opposite door, at the moment of Mittie's
+rude and greedy act. The meekness of Helen exasperated her still more
+against the offender, and striding across the passage, she seized Mittie
+by the arm, and swung her completely on one side.
+
+"Let me alone, old Madam Thusa," exclaimed Mittie, "I'm not going to
+mind _you_. That I'm not. You always take her part against me. Every
+body does--that makes me hate her."
+
+"For shame! for shame!" cried the tall monitor, "to talk so of your
+little sister. You're like the girl in the fairy tale, who was so
+spiteful that every time she spoke, toads and vipers crawled out of her
+mouth. Helen, I'll tell you that story to-night, before you go to
+sleep."
+
+Helen could have told her that she would rather not hear any thing of
+vipers that night, but she feared Miss Thusa would be displeased and
+think her ungrateful. Notwithstanding Mittie's unkindness and violence
+of temper, she did not like to have such dreadful ideas associated with
+her. When, however, she heard the whole story, at the usual witching
+hour, she felt the same fascination which had so often enthralled her.
+As it was summer, the blazing fire no longer illuminated the hearth, but
+a little lamp, whose rays flickered in the wind that faintly murmured in
+the chimney. Miss Thusa sat spinning by the open window, in the light of
+the solemn stars, and as she waxed more and more eloquent, she seemed to
+derive inspiration from their beams. She could see one twinkling all the
+time in the little gourd of water, swinging from her distaff, and in
+spite of her preference for the dark and the dreadful, she could not
+help stopping her wheel, to admire the trembling beauty of that solitary
+star.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+    "Pale as the corse o'er which she leaned,
+      As cold, with stifling breath,
+    Her spirit sunk before the might,
+      The majesty of death."
+
+    "A man severe he was, and stern to view,
+    I knew him well, and every truant knew--
+    Yet he was kind, or if severe in aught,
+    The love he bore for learning was in fault."
+
+    _Goldsmith._
+
+
+The darkened room, the stilly tread, the muffled knocker and slowly
+closing door, announced the presence of that kingly guest, who presides
+over the empire of _terror_ and the grave. The long-expected hour was
+arrived, and Mrs. Gleason lay supported by pillows, whose soft down
+would never more sink under the pressure of her weary head. The wasting
+fires of consumption had burned and burned, till nothing but the ashes
+of life were left, save a few smouldering embers, from which flashed
+occasionally a transient spark. Mr. Gleason sat at the bed's head, with
+that grave, stern, yet bitter grief on his countenance which bids
+defiance to tears. She had been a gentle and devoted wife, and her
+quiet, home-born virtues, not always fully appreciated, rose before his
+remembrance, like the angels in Jacob's dream, climbing up to Heaven.
+Louis stood behind him, his head bowed upon his shoulder, sobbing as if
+his heart would break. Helen was nestled in her father's arms, with the
+most profound and unutterable expression of grief and awe and dread, on
+her young face. She was told that her mother was dying, going away from
+her, never to return, and the anguish this conviction imparted would
+have found vent in shrieks, had not the awe with which she beheld the
+cold, gray shadows of death, slowly, solemnly rolling over the face she
+loved best on earth, the face which had always seemed to her the
+perfection of mortal beauty, paralyzed her tongue, and frozen the
+fountain of her tears. Mittie stood at the foot of the bed, looking at
+her mother through the opening of the curtain, partly veiled by the
+long, white fringe that hung heavily from the folds, and which the wind
+blew to and fro, with something like the sweep of the willow. The
+windows were all open to admit the air to the faintly heaving lungs of
+the sufferer, and gradually one curtain after another was lifted, as the
+struggle for breath and air increased, and the light of departing day
+streamed in on the sunken and altered features it was never more to
+illuminate. Mittie was awe struck, but she manifested no tenderness or
+sensibility. It was astonishing how so young a child could see _anyone_
+die, and above all a _mother_--a mother, so kind and affectionate, with
+so little emotion. She was far more oppressed by the realization of her
+own mortality, for the first time pressed home upon her, than by her
+impending bereavement. What were the feelings of that speechless,
+expiring, but fully conscious mother, as she gazed earnestly, wistfully,
+thrillingly on the group that surrounded her? There was the husband,
+whom she had so much loved, he, who often, when weary with business, and
+perplexed with anxiety, had seemed careless and indifferent, but who, as
+life waned away, had shown the tenderness of love's early day, and who
+she knew would mourn her deeply and _long_. There was her noble,
+handsome, warm-hearted, high-souled boy--the object of her pride, as
+well as her affection--he, who had never willfully given her a moment's
+pain--and though his irrepressive sighs and suffocating sobs she would
+have hushed, at the expense of all that remained of life to her--there
+was still a music in them to her dying ear, that told of love that would
+not forget, that would twine in perennial garlands round her grave. Poor
+little Helen, as she looked at her pale, agonized face, and saw the
+_terror_ imprinted there, she remembered what she had once said to Miss
+Thusa, of being after death an object of _terror_ to her child, and she
+felt a sting that no language could express. She longed to stretch out
+her feeble arms, to fold them round this child of her prayers and fears,
+to carry her with her down the dark valley her feet were treading, to
+save her from trials a nature like hers was so ill-fitted to sustain.
+She looked from her to Mittie, the cold, insensible Mittie, whose large,
+black eyes, serious, but not sad, were riveted upon her through the
+white fringe of the curtain, and another sting sharper still went
+through her heart.
+
+"Oh! my child," she would have said, could her thoughts have found
+utterance, "forget me if you will--mourn not for me, the mother who bore
+you--but be kind, be loving to your little sister, more young and
+helpless than yourself. You are strong and fearless--she is a timid,
+trembling, clinging dove. Oh! be gentle to her, for my sake, gentle as I
+have ever been to you. And you, too, my child, the time will come when
+you will _feel_, when your heart will awake from its sleep--and if you
+only feel for yourself, you will be wretched."
+
+"Why art thou cast down, oh! my soul? and why art thou disquieted within
+me?" were the meditations of the dying woman, when turning from earth,
+she raised her soul on high. "I leave my children in the hands of a
+heavenly Father, as well as a mighty God--in the care of Him who died
+that man might live forevermore."
+
+But there was one present at this scene, who seemed a priestess
+presiding over some mystic rite. It was Miss Thusa. Notwithstanding the
+real kindness of her heart, she felt a strange and intense delight in
+witnessing the last struggle between vitality and death, in gazing on
+the marble, soulless features, from which life had departed, and
+composing the icy limbs for the garniture of the grave. She would have
+averted suffering and death, if she could, from all, but since every son
+and daughter of Adam were doomed to bear them, she wanted the privilege
+of beholding the conflict, and gazing on the ruins. She would sit up
+night after night, regardless of fatigue, to watch by the pillow of
+sickness and pain, and yet she felt an unaccountable sensation of
+disappointment when her cares were crowned with success, and the hour of
+danger was over. She would have climbed mountains, if it were required,
+to carry water to dash on a burning dwelling, yet wished at the same
+time to see the flames grow redder and broader, and more destructive.
+She would have liked to live near the smoke and fire of battle, so that
+she might wander in contemplation among the unburied slain.
+
+The sun went down, but the sun of life still lingered on the verge of
+the horizon. The dimness of twilight mingled with the shadows of death.
+
+"Take me out," cried Helen, struggling to be released from her father's
+arms. "Oh! take me from here. It don't seem mother that I see."
+
+"Hush--hush," said Mr. Gleason, sternly, "you disturb her last moments."
+But Helen, whose feelings were wrought up to a pitch which made
+stillness impossible, and restraint agonizing, darted from between her
+father's knees and rushed into the passage. But how dim and lonely it
+was! How melancholy the cat looked, waiting near the door, with its
+calm, green eyes turned towards the chamber where its gentle mistress
+lay! It rubbed its white, silky sides against Helen, purring solemnly
+and musically, but Helen recollected many a frightful tale of cats,
+related by Miss Thusa, and recoiled from the contact. She longed to
+escape from herself, to escape from a world so dark and gloomy. Her
+mother was going, and why should she stay behind? _Going!_ yet lying so
+still and almost breathless there! She had been told that the angels
+came down and carried away the souls of the good, but she looked in vain
+for the track of their silvery wings. One streak of golden ruddiness
+severed the gray of twilight, but it resembled more a fiery bar, closing
+the gates of heaven, than a radiant opening to the spirit-land. While
+she stood pale and trembling, with her hand on the latch of the door,
+afraid to stay where she was, afraid to return and confront the mystery
+of death, the gate opened, and Arthur Hazleton came up the steps. He had
+been there a short time before, and went away for something which it was
+thought might possibly administer relief. He held out his hand, and
+Helen clung to it as if it had the power of salvation. He read what was
+passing in the mind of the child, and pitied her. He did not try to
+reason with her at that moment, for he saw it would be in vain, but
+drawing her kindly towards him, he told her he was sorry for her. His
+words, like "flaky snow in the day of the sun," melted as they fell and
+sunk into her heart, and she began to weep. He knew that her mother
+could not live long, and wishing to withdraw her from a scene which
+might give a shock from which her nerves would long vibrate, he
+committed her to the care of a neighbor, who took her to her own home.
+Mrs. Gleason died at midnight, while Helen lay in a deep sleep,
+unconscious of the deeper slumbers that wrapped the dead.
+
+And now a terrible trial awaited her. She had never looked on the face
+of death, and she shrunk from the thought with a dread which no language
+can express. When her father, sad and silent, with knit brow and
+quivering lip, led her to the chamber where her mother lay, she resisted
+his guidance, and declared she would never, never go in _there_. It
+would have been well to have yielded to her wild pleadings, her tears
+and cries. It would have been well to have waited till reason was
+stronger and more capable of grappling with terror, before forcing her
+to read the first awful lesson of mortality. But Mr. Gleason thought it
+his duty to require of her this act of filial reverence, an act he would
+have deemed it sacrilegious to omit. He was astonished, grieved, angry
+at her resistance, and in his excitement he used some harsh and bitter
+words.
+
+Finding persuasions and threats in vain, he summoned Miss Thusa, telling
+her he gave into her charge an unnatural, rebellious child, with whose
+strange temper he was then too weak to contend. It was a pity he
+summoned such an assistant, for Miss Thusa thought it impious as well as
+unnatural, and she had bound herself too by a sacred promise, that she
+would not suffer Helen to _fear_ in death the mother whom in life she
+had so dearly loved. Helen, when she looked into those still, commanding
+eyes, felt that her doom was sealed, and that she need struggle no more.
+In despair, rather than submission, she yielded, if it can be called
+yielding, to suffer herself to be dragged into a room, which she never
+entered afterwards without dread.
+
+The first glance at the interior of the chamber, struck a chill through
+her heart. It was so still, so chill, so dim, yet so white. The curtains
+of white muslin fell in long, slumberous folds down to the floor, their
+fringes resting lifelessly on the carpet. The tables and chairs were all
+covered with white linen, and something shrouded in white was stretched
+out on a table in the centre of the room. The sheet which covered it
+flapped a moment as the door opened, and then hung motionless. The
+outline of a human form beneath was visible, and when Miss Thusa lifted
+her in her arms and carried her to the spot, Helen was conscious of an
+awful curiosity growing up within her that was stronger than her
+terrors. Her breath came quick and short, a film came over her eyes, and
+cold drops of sweat stood upon her forehead, yet she would not now have
+left the room without penetrating into the mystery of death. Miss Thusa
+laid her hand upon the sheet and turned it back from the pale and
+ghastly face, on whose brow the mysterious signet of everlasting rest
+was set. Still, immovable, solemn, placid--it lay beneath the gaze, with
+shrouded eye, and cheek like concave marble, and hueless, waxen lips.
+What depth, what grandeur, what duration in that repose! What
+inexpressible sadness, yet what sublime tranquillity! Helen held her
+breath, bending slowly, lower and lower, as if drawn down by a mighty,
+irresistible power, till her cheek almost touched the clay-cold cheek
+over which she leaned. Then Miss Thusa folded back the sheet still
+farther, and exposed the shrouded form, which she had so carefully
+prepared for its last dread espousals. The fragrance of white roses and
+geranium leaves profusely scattered over the body, mingled with the cold
+odor of mortality, and filled the room with a deadly, sickening perfume.
+White roses were placed in the still, white, emaciated hands, and lay
+all wilted on the unbreathing bosom.
+
+All at once a revulsion took place in the breast of Helen. It mocked
+her--that silent, rigid, moveless form. She felt so cold, so deadly cold
+in its presence, it seemed as if all the warmth of life went out within
+her. She began to realize the desolation, the loneliness of the future.
+The cry of orphanage came wailing up from the depths of her heart, and
+bursting from her lips in a loud piercing shriek, she sprang forward and
+fell perfectly insensible on the bosom of the dead.
+
+"I wish I had not _forced_ her to go in," exclaimed the father, as he
+hung with remorseful anguish over the child. "Great Heaven! must I lose
+all I hold dear at once?"
+
+"No, no," cried Miss Thusa, making use of the most powerful restoratives
+as she spoke, "it will not hurt her. She is coming to already. It's a
+lesson she must learn, and the sooner the better. She's got to be
+hardened--and if we don't begin to do it the Lord Almighty will. I
+remember the saying of an old lady, and she was a powerful wise woman,
+that they who refused to look at a corpse, would see their own every
+night in the glass."
+
+"Repeat not such shocking sayings before the child," cried Mr. Gleason.
+"I fear she has heard too many already."
+
+Ah, yes! _she had heard too many_. The warning came too late.
+
+She was restored to animation and--to memory. Her father, now trembling
+for her health, and feeling his affection and tenderness increase in
+consequence of a sensibility so remarkable, forbid every one to allude
+to her mother before her, and kept out of her sight as far as possible
+the mournful paraphernalia of the grave. But a _cold presence_ haunted
+her, and long after the mother was laid in the bosom of earth, it would
+come like a sudden cloud over the sun, chilling the warmth of childhood.
+
+She had never yet been sent to school. Her extreme timidity had induced
+her mother to teach her at home the rudiments of education. She had thus
+been a kind of _amateur_ scholar, studying pictures more than any thing
+else, and never confined to any particular hours or lessons. About six
+months after her mother's death, her father thought it best she should
+be placed under regular instruction, and she was sent with Mittie to the
+village school. If she could only have gone with Louis--Louis, so brave,
+yet tender, so manly, yet so gentle, how much happier she would have
+been! But Louis went to the large academy, where he studied Greek and
+Latin and Conic Sections, &c., where none but boys were admitted. The
+teacher of the village school was a gentleman who had an equal number of
+little boys and girls under his charge. In summer the institution was
+under the jurisdiction of a lady--in autumn and winter the Salic law had
+full sway, and man reigned supreme on the pedagogical throne. It was in
+winter that Helen entered what was to her a new world.
+
+The little, delicate, pensive looking child, clad in deep mourning,
+attracted universal interest. The children gathered round her and
+examined her as they would a wax doll. There was something about her so
+different from themselves, so different from every body else they had
+seen, that they looked upon her as a natural curiosity.
+
+"What big eyes she's got!" cried a little creature, whose eyes were
+scarcely larger than pin-holes, putting her round, fat face close to
+Helen's pale one, and peering under her long lashes.
+
+"Hush!" said another, whose nickname was Cherry-cheeks, so bright and
+ruddy was her bloom. "She's a thousand times prettier than you, you
+little no eyed thing! But what makes her so pale and thin? I wonder--and
+what makes her look so scared?"
+
+"It is because her mother is dead," said an orphan child, taking Helen's
+hand in one of hers, passing the other softly over her smooth hair.
+
+"Mittie has lost her mother too," replied Cherry-cheeks, "and she isn't
+pale nor thin."
+
+"Mittie don't care," exclaimed several voices at once, "only let her
+have the head of the class, and she won't mind what becomes of the rest
+of the world."
+
+A scornful glance over her shoulder was all the notice Mittie deigned to
+take of this acknowledgment of her eagle ambition. Conscious that she
+was the favorite of the teacher, she disdained to cultivate the love and
+good-will of her companions. With a keen, bright intelligence, and
+remarkable retentiveness of memory, she mastered her studies with
+surprising quickness, and distanced all her competitors. Had she been
+amiable, her young classmates would have been proud of the honors she
+acquired, for it is easy to yield the palm to one always in the
+ascendant, but she looked down with contempt on those of inferior
+attainments, and claimed as a right the homage they would have
+spontaneously offered.
+
+Mr. Hightower, or as he was called Master High-tower, was worthy of his
+commanding name, for he was at least six feet and three inches in
+height, and of proportional magnitude. It would have looked more in
+keeping to see him at the head of an embattled host rather than
+exercising dominion over the little rudiments of humanity arranged
+around him. His hair was thick and bushy, and he had a habit of combing
+it with his fingers very suddenly, and making it stand up like military
+plumes all over his head. His features, though heavily moulded, had no
+harsh lines. Their predominant expression was good nature, a kind of
+elephantine docility, which neutralized the awe inspired by his immense
+size. On his inauguration morning, when the children beheld him marching
+slowly through the rows of benches on which they were seated, with a
+long, black ruler under his arm, and enthrone himself behind a tall,
+green-covered desk, they crouched together and trembled as the frogs did
+when King Log plunged in their midst. Though his good-humored
+countenance dispersed their terror, they found he was far from
+possessing the inaction of the wooden monarch, and that no one could
+resist his authority with impunity. He _could_ scold, and then his voice
+thundered and reverberated in the ears of the pale delinquent in such a
+storm-peal as was never heard before--and he _could_ chastise the
+obstinate offender, when reason could not control, most tremendously.
+That long, black ruler--what a wand it was! Whenever he was about to use
+it as an instrument of punishment, he had a peculiar way of handling it,
+which soon taught them to tremble. He would feel the whole length of it
+very slowly and carefully as if it were the edge of a razor--then raise
+it parallel with the eyes, and closing one, looked at it steadily with
+the other. Then lifting it suddenly above his head, he would extend his
+broad, left palm, and give himself a blow that would make them all start
+from their seats. Of all crimes or vices, none excited his indignation
+so much as laziness. It was with him the unpardonable sin. There was
+toleration, forgiveness for every one but the _sluggard_. He said
+Solomon's description of the slothful should be written in letters of
+gold on the walls of the understanding. He explained it to them as a
+metaphor, and made them to understand that the field of the sluggard,
+overgrown with thorns and nettles, was only an image of the neglected
+and uncultivated mind. He gave them Doctor Watts' versification of it to
+commit to memory, and repeated it with them in concert. It is not
+strange that Mittie, who never came to him with a neglected or imperfect
+lesson, should be a great favorite with him, and that he should make her
+the _star pupil_ of the school.
+
+Mittie was not afraid of being eclipsed by Helen, in the new sphere on
+which she had entered. At home the latter was more petted and caressed,
+the object of deeper tenderness, but there she reigned supreme, and the
+pet of the household would find herself nothing more than a cipher. She
+was mistaken. It was impossible to look upon Helen without interest, and
+Master Hightower seemed especially drawn towards her. He bent down till
+he overshadowed her with his loftiness, then smiling at the quick
+withdrawal of her soft, wild, shy glances, he took her up in his lap as
+if she were a plaything, sent for his amusement.
+
+Mittie was not pleased at this, for though she thought herself entirely
+too much of a woman to be treated with such endearing familiarity, she
+could not bear to see such caresses bestowed on another.
+
+"I wonder," she said to herself, with a darkening countenance, "I wonder
+what any one can see in such a little goose as Helen, _to take on_
+about? Little simpleton! she's afraid of her own shadow! Never mind!
+wait awhile! When he finds out how lazy she is, he'll put her on a
+lower, harder seat than his lap."
+
+It was true that Helen soon lost cast with the uncompromising enemy of
+idleness. She had fallen into a habit of reverie, which made it
+impossible for her to fix her mind on a given lesson. Her imagination
+had acquired so much more strength than her other faculties, that she
+could not convert the monarch into the vassal. She would try to memorize
+the page before her, and resolutely set herself to the task, but the
+wing of a snow-bird fluttering by the window, or the buzzing of a fly
+round the warm stove, would distract her attention and call up trains of
+thought as wild as irrelevant. Sometimes she would bend down her head,
+and press both hands upon it, to keep it in an obedient position; but
+all in vain!--her vagrant imagination would wander far away to the
+confines of the spirit-land.
+
+Master Hightower coaxed, reasoned with her, scolded, threatened, did
+every thing but punish. He could not have the heart to apply the black
+ruler to that little delicate hand. He could not give a blow to one who
+looked up in his face with such soft, deprecating, fearful eyes--but he
+grew vexed with the child, and feeling of the edge of his ruler
+half-a-dozen times, declared he did not know what to do with her.
+
+One night Mittie lingered behind the rest, and told him that if he would
+shut up Helen somewhere alone, _in the dark_, he would have no more
+trouble with her; that her father had said that it was the only way to
+make her study. It was true that Mr. Gleason had remarked, in a jesting
+way, when told of Helen's neglect of her lessons, that he must get Mr.
+Hightower to have a dark closet made, and he would have no more trouble;
+but he never intended such a cruelty to be inflicted on his child. This
+Mittie well knew, but as she had no sympathy with her sister's fears,
+she had no compassion for the sufferings they caused. She thought she
+deserved punishment, and felt a malicious pleasure in anticipating its
+infliction.
+
+Master Hightower had no dark closet, but there was room enough in his
+high, dark, capacious desk, for a larger body than the slender, delicate
+Helen. He resolved to act upon Mittie's admirable hint, knowing it would
+not hurt the child to enclose her awhile in a nice, warm, snug place,
+with books and manuscripts for her companions.
+
+Helen heard the threat without alarm, for she believed it uttered in
+sport. The pleasant glance of the eye contradicted the severity of the
+lips. But Master Hightower was anxious to try the experiment, since all
+approved methods had failed, and when the little delinquent blushed and
+hung her head, stammering a faint excuse for her slighted task, he said
+nothing, but slowly lifting up the lid of his desk, he placed his black
+ruler in a perpendicular position, letting the lid rest upon it, forming
+an obtuse angle with the desk. Then he piled the books in the back part,
+leaving a cavity in front, which looked something like a bower in a
+greenwood, for it was lined with baize within and without.
+
+"Come my little lady," said he, taking her up in his arms, "I am going
+to try the effect of a little solitary confinement. They say you are not
+very fond of the _dark_. Well, I am going to keep you here all night, if
+you don't promise to study hereafter."
+
+Helen writhed in his strong grasp, but the worm might as well attempt to
+escape from under the giant's heel, as the child from the powerful hold
+of the master. He laid her down in the green nest, as if she were a
+downy feather, then putting a book between the lid and the desk, to
+admit the fresh air, closed the lid and leaned his heavy elbow upon it.
+The children laughed at the novelty of the punishment, all but the
+orphan child; but when they heard suppressed sobs issuing from the
+desk, they checked their mirth, and tears of sympathy stole down the
+cheeks of the gentle orphan girl. Mittie's black eyes sparkled with
+excitement; she was proud because the master had acted upon her
+suggestion, and inflicted a punishment which, though it involved
+humiliation, gave no real suffering.
+
+Burning with shame, and shivering with apprehension, Helen lay in her
+darkened nook, while the hum of recitation murmured in a dull roaring
+sound around her. It was a cold winter's day and she was very warmly
+clad, so that she soon experienced a glowing warmth in the confined air
+she was breathing. This warmth, so oppressive, and the monotonous sound
+stealing in through the aperture of the desk, caused an irresistible
+drowsiness, and her eye-lids heavy with the weight of tears,
+involuntarily closed. When the master, astonished at the perfect
+stillness with which, after awhile, she endured the restraint, softly
+peeped within, she was lying in a deep sleep, her head pillowed on her
+arm, the tear-drops glittering on her cheeks. Cramped as she was, the
+unconscious grace of childhood lent a charm to her position, and her
+sable dress, contrasting with the pallor of her complexion, appealed for
+compassion and sympathy. The teacher's heart smote him for the coercion
+he had used.
+
+"I will not disturb her now," thought he; "she is sleeping so sweetly. I
+will take her out when school is dismissed. I think she will remember
+this lesson."
+
+Suffering the lid to fall noiselessly on the book, he resumed his tasks,
+which were not closed till the last beams of the wintry sun glimmered on
+the landscape. The days were now very short, and in his enthusiastic
+devotion to his duties, the shades of twilight often gathered around him
+unawares.
+
+It was his custom to dismiss his scholars one by one, beginning with the
+largest, and winding up with the smallest. It was one of his rules that
+they should go directly home, without lingering to play round the door
+of the school-house, and they knew the Mede and Persian character of his
+laws too well to disobey them. When Mittie went out, making a demure
+curtsey at the door, she lingered a little longer than usual, supposing
+he would release Helen from her prison house; but Master Hightower was
+one of the most absent men in the world, and he had forgotten the
+little prisoner in her quiet nest.
+
+"Well," thought Mittie, "I suppose he is going to keep her a while
+longer, and she can go home very well without me. I am going to stay all
+night with Cherry-cheeks, and if Miss Thusa makes a fuss about her
+darling, I shall not be there to hear it."
+
+Master Hightower generally lingered behind his pupils to see that all
+was safe, the fire extinguished in the stove, the windows fastened down,
+and the shutters next to the street closed. After attending deliberately
+to these things, he took down his hat and cloak, drew on his warm woolen
+gloves, went out, and locked the door. It was so late that lights were
+beginning to gleam through the blinds of many a dwelling-house as he
+walked along.
+
+In the meantime, Helen slumbered, unconscious of the solitude in which
+she was plunged. When she awoke, she found herself in utter darkness,
+and in stillness so deep, it was more appalling than the darkness. She
+knew not at first where she was. When she attempted to move, her limbs
+ached from their long constraint, and the arm that supported her head
+was fast asleep. At length, tossing up her right hand, she felt the
+resisting lid, and remembered the punishment she had been enduring. She
+tried to spring out, but fell back several times on her sleeping arm,
+and it was long before she was able to accomplish her release in the
+darkness. She knew not where she was jumping, and fell head first
+against the master's high-backed chair. If she was hurt she did not know
+it, she was so paralyzed by terror. She could not be alone! They would
+not be so cruel as to leave her there the live-long winter's night. They
+were only frightening her! Mittie must he hiding there, waiting for her.
+_She_ was not afraid of the dark.
+
+"Sister," she whispered. "Sister," she murmured, in a louder tone.
+"Where are you? Come and take my hand."
+
+The echo of her own voice sounded fearful, in those silent walls. She
+dared not call again. Her eyes, accustomed to the gloom, began to
+distinguish the outline of objects. She could see where the long rows of
+benches stood, and the windows, all except those next the street, grew
+whiter and whiter, for the ground was covered with snow, and some of it
+had been drifted against the glass. All at once Helen remembered the
+_room_, all dressed in white, and she felt the _cold presence_, which
+had so often congealed her heart. Her dead mother seemed before her, in
+the horror, yet grandeur, of her last repose. Unable to remain passive
+in body, with such travail in her soul, she rushed towards the
+door--finding the way with her groping hands. It was locked. She tried
+the windows--they were fastened. She shrieked--but there was none to
+hear. No! there was no escape--no hope. She must stay there the whole
+long, dark night, if she lived, to see the morning's dawn. With the
+conviction of the hopelessness of her situation, there arose a feeling,
+partly despair and partly resignation. She was very cold, for the fire
+had long been extinguished, and she could not find her cloak to cover
+her.
+
+She was sure she would freeze to death before morning, and Master
+Hightower, when he came to open the school, would see her lying stiff
+and frozen on the floor, and be sorry he had been so cruel. Yes! she
+would freeze, and it was no matter, for no one cared for her; no one
+thought of coming to look for her. Father, brother, Miss Thusa,
+Mittie--all had deserted her. Had her mother lived, _she_ would have
+remembered her little Helen. The young doctor, he who had been so kind
+and good, who had come to her before in the hour of danger, perhaps he
+would pity her, if he knew of her being locked up there in loneliness
+and darkness.
+
+Several times she heard sleighs driving along, the bells ringing merrily
+and loud, and she thought they were going to stop--but they flew swiftly
+by. She felt as the mariner feels on a desert island, when he spies a
+distant sail, and tries in vain to arrest the vessel, that glides on,
+unheeding his signal of distress.
+
+"I will say my prayers," she said, "if I have no bed to lie down on. If
+God ever heard me, He will listen now, for I've nobody but Him to go
+to."
+
+Kneeling down in the darkness, and folding her hands reverently, while
+she lifted them upwards, she softly repeated the prayer her mother had
+taught her, and, for the first time, the spirit of it entered her
+understanding. When she came to the words--"Give us this day our daily
+bread," she paused. "Thou hast given it," she added, "and oh! God, I
+thank Thee." When she repeated--"Forgive my sins," she thought of the
+sin, for which she was suffering so dreadful a punishment. She had
+sinned in disobeying so kind a teacher. She ought to study, instead of
+thinking of far-off things. She did not wonder the master was angry with
+her. It was her own fault, for he had told her what he was going to do
+with her; and if she had not been idle, she might have been at home by a
+warm fire, safe in a father's sheltering arms. For the first time she
+added something original and spontaneous to the ritual she had learned.
+When she had finished the beautiful and sublime doxology, she bowed her
+head still lower, and repeated, in accents trembling with penitence and
+humility--
+
+"Only take care of me to-night, our Father who art in heaven, and I will
+try and sin no more."
+
+Was she indeed left forgotten there, till morning's dawn?
+
+When Master Hightower bent his steps homeward, he was solving a
+peripatetic problem of Euclid. When he arrived at his lodgings, seated
+himself by the blazing fire, and stretched out his massy limbs to meet
+the genial heat, in the luxurious comfort he enjoyed, the cares, the
+bustle, the events of the day were forgotten. A smoking supper made him
+still more luxuriously comfortable, and a deeper oblivion stole over
+him. It was not likely that the fragrant cigar he then lighted as the
+crowning blessing of the evening, would recall to his mind the fireless,
+supperless, comfortless culprit he had left in such "durance vile."
+Combing his hair suddenly with the fingers of his left hand, and leaning
+back in a floating position, he watched the smoke-rings, curling above
+his head, and fell into a reverie on Natural Philosophy. He was
+interrupted by the entrance of Arthur Hazleton, the young doctor.
+
+"I called for the new work on Chemistry, which I lent you some time
+since," said Arthur. "Is it perfectly convenient for you to let me have
+it now?"
+
+"I am very sorry," replied the master, "I left it in the school-room, in
+my desk."
+
+His desk! yes! and he had left something else there too.
+
+"I will go and get it," he cried, starting up, suddenly, his face
+reddening to his temples. "I will get it, and carry it over to you."
+
+"No, give me the key of the school-house, and I will spare you the
+trouble. It is on my homeward way."
+
+"I _must_ go myself," he replied, cloaking himself with wonderful
+celerity, and taking a lantern from the shelf. "You can wait here, till
+I return."
+
+"No such thing," said Arthur. "Why should I wait here, when I might be
+so far on my way home?"
+
+The master saw that it was in vain to conceal from him the incarceration
+of little Helen, an act for which he felt sorry and ashamed; but
+thinking she might still be asleep, and that he might abstract the book
+without the young doctor being aware of her presence, he strode on in
+silence, with a speed almost superhuman.
+
+"You forget what tremendous long limbs you have," exclaimed the young
+doctor, breathless, and laughing, "or you would have more mercy on your
+less gifted brethren."
+
+"Yes--yes--I do forget," cried his excited companion, unconsciously
+betraying his secret, "as that poor little creature knows, to her cost."
+
+"I may as well tell you all about it," he added, answering Arthur's look
+of surprise and curiosity, seen by the lantern's gleam--"since I
+couldn't keep it to myself."
+
+He then related the punishment he had inflicted on Helen, and how he had
+left her, forgotten and alone.
+
+The benevolent heart of the young doctor was not only pained, but
+alarmed by the recital. He feared for the effects of this long
+imprisonment on a child so exquisitely sensitive and timid.
+
+"You don't know the child," said he, hastening his pace, till even the
+master's long strides did not sweep more rapidly over the snowy ground.
+"You have made a fatal experiment. I should not be surprised if you made
+her a maniac or an idiot."
+
+"Heaven forbid!" cried the conscience-stricken teacher, and his huge
+hand trembled on the lock of the door.
+
+"Go in first," said he to Arthur, giving him the lantern. "She will be
+less afraid of you than of me."
+
+Arthur opened the door, and shading the lantern, so as to soften its
+glare, he went in with cautious steps. A little black figure, with
+white hands and white face, was kneeling between the desk and the stove.
+The hands were clasped so tightly, they looked as if they had grown
+together, and the face had a still, marble look--but life, intensely
+burning life was in the large, wild eyes uplifted to his own.
+
+"Helen, my child!" said he, setting the lantern on the stove, and
+stooping till his hair, silvered with the night-frost, touched her
+cheek.
+
+With a faint but thrilling cry, she sprang forward, and threw her arms
+round his neck; and there she clung, sobbing one moment, and laughing
+the next, in an ecstasy of joy and gratitude.
+
+"I thought you'd come, if you knew it," she cried.
+
+This implicit confidence in his protection, touched the young man, and
+he wrapped his arms more closely round her shivering frame.
+
+"How cold you are!" he exclaimed. "Let me fold my cloak about you, and
+put both your hands in mine, they are like pieces of ice."
+
+"Helen, you poor little forlorn lamb," cried a rough, husky voice--and
+the sudden eclipse of a great shadow passed over her. "Helen, I did not
+mean to leave you here--on my soul I did not. I forgot all about you. As
+I hope to be forgiven for my cruelty, it is true. I only meant to keep
+you here till school was dismissed--and I have let you stay till you are
+starved, and frozen, and almost dead."
+
+"It was my fault," replied Helen, in a meek, subdued tone, "but I'll try
+and study better, if you won't shut me up here any more."
+
+"Bless the child!" exclaimed the master, "what a little angel of
+goodness she is. You shall have all the sunshine of the broad earth,
+after this, for all my shutting out one ray from your sweet face. That's
+right--bring her along, doctor, under your cloak, and don't let the
+frost bite her nose--I'll carry the lantern."
+
+Wondering that the father had not sought for his lost child, Arthur
+carried her home, while the master carefully lighted their slippery
+path.
+
+Great was the astonishment of Mr. Gleason, on seeing his little daughter
+brought home in such a state, for he imagined her at the fireside of one
+of her companions, in company with her sister. Her absence had
+consequently created no alarm.
+
+Not all the regret and compunction expressed by Master Hightower could
+quell the rising surge of anger in the father's breast. His brow grew
+dark, and Miss Thusa's darker still.
+
+"To lock up a poor, little motherless thing, such a night as this!"
+muttered she, putting her spectacles, the thermometer of her anger, on
+the top of her head. "To leave her there to perish. Why, the wild beasts
+themselves would be ashamed of such behaviour, let alone a man."
+
+"Don't, Miss Thusa," whispered Helen, "he is sorry as he can be. I was
+bad, too, for I didn't mind him."
+
+"I do not wonder at your displeasure, sir," said the master, turning to
+Mr. Gleason, with dignity; "I deserve to feel it, for my unpardonable
+forgetfulness. But I must say in my defence, I never should have thought
+of such a punishment, had it not been suggested by yourself."
+
+"Suggested by me!" repeated Mr. Gleason, angrily; "I don't know what you
+mean, sir!"
+
+"Your eldest daughter brought me a message, to this effect--that you
+desired me to try solitary confinement in the dark, as the most
+effectual means to bring her to obedience; having no other dark place, I
+shut her in my desk, and never having deposited a living bundle there
+before, I really think I ought to be pardoned for forgetting her."
+
+"Is it possible my daughter carried such a message to you from _me_,"
+cried Mr. Gleason, "I never sent it."
+
+"Just like Mittie," cried Miss Thusa, "she's always doing something to
+spite Helen. I heard her say myself once, that she despised her, because
+everybody took her part. Take her part--sure enough. The Lord Almighty
+knows that a person has to be abused before we _can_ take their part."
+
+"Hush!" exclaimed Mr. Gleason, mortified as this disclosure of Mittie's
+unamiable disposition, and shocked at the instance first made known to
+him. "This is not a proper time for such remarks; I don't wish to hear
+them."
+
+"You ought to hear them, whether you want to or not," continued the
+indomitable spinster, "and I don't see any use in palavering the truth.
+Master Hightower and Mr. Arthur knows it by this time, and there's no
+harm in talking before them. Helen's an uncommon child. She's no more
+like other children, than my fine linen thread is like twisted tow. She
+won't bear hard pulling or rough handling. Mittie isn't good to her
+sister. You ought to have heard Helen's mother talk about it before she
+died. She was afraid of worrying you, she was so tender of your
+feelings. 'But Miss Thusa,' says she, 'the only thing that keeps me from
+being willing to die, is this child;' meaning Helen, to be sure. 'But,
+oh, Miss Thusa,' says she, and her eyes filled up with tears, 'watch
+over her, for my sake, and see that she is gently dealt by.'"
+
+A long, deep sigh burst from the heart of the widower, sacred to the
+memory of his buried wife. Another heaved the ample breast of the master
+for the disclosure of his favorite pupil's unamiable traits.
+
+The young doctor sighed, for the evils he saw by anticipation impending
+over his little favorite's head. He thought of his gentle mother, his
+lovely blind sister, of his sweet, quiet home, and wished that Helen
+could be embosomed in its hallowed shades. Young as he was, he felt a
+kind of fatherly interest in the child--she had been so often thrown
+upon him for sympathy and protection. (His youth may be judged by the
+epithet attached to his name. There were several young physicians in the
+town, but he was universally known as _the_ young doctor.) From the
+first, he was singularly drawn towards the child. He pitied her, for he
+saw she had such deep capacities of suffering--he loved her for her
+dependence and helplessness, her grateful and confiding disposition. He
+wished she were placed in the midst of more genial elements. He feared
+less the unnatural unkindness of Mittie, than the devotion and
+tenderness of Miss Thusa--for the latter fed, as with burning gas, her
+too inflammable imagination.
+
+"The next time I visit home," said the young doctor to himself, "I will
+speak to my mother of this interesting child."
+
+When Mittie was brought face to face with her father; he upbraided her
+sternly for her falsehood, and for making use of his name as a sanction
+for her cruelty.
+
+"You did say so, father!" said she, looking him boldly in the face,
+though the color mounted to her brow. "You did say so--and I can prove
+it."
+
+"You know what I said was uttered in jest," replied the justly incensed
+parent; "that it was never given as a message; that it was said to her,
+not you."
+
+"I didn't give it as a message," cried Mittie, undauntedly; "I said that
+I had heard you say so--and so I did. Ask Master Hightower, if you don't
+believe me."
+
+There was something so insolent in her manner, so defying in her
+countenance, that Mr. Gleason, who was naturally passionate, became so
+exasperated that he lifted his hand with a threatening gesture, but the
+pleading image of his gentle wife rose before him and arrested the
+chastisement.
+
+"I cannot punish the child whose mother lies in the grave," said he, in
+an agitated tone, suffering his arm to fall relaxed by his side. "But
+Mittie, you are making me very unhappy by your misconduct. Tell me why
+you dislike your innocent little sister, and delight in giving her pain,
+when she is meek and gentle as a lamb?"
+
+"Because you all love her better than you do me," she answered, her
+scornful under lip slightly quivering. "Brother Louis don't care for me;
+he always gives every thing he has to Helen. Miss Thusa pets her all the
+day long, just because she listens to her ugly old stories; and you--and
+you, always take her part against me."
+
+"Mittie, don't let me hear you make use of that ridiculous phrase again;
+it means nothing, and has a low, vulgar sound. Come here, my daughter--I
+thought you did not care about our love." He took her by the hand and
+drew her in spite of her resistance, between his knees. Then stroking
+back the black and shining hair from her high, bold brow, he added,
+
+"You are mistaken, Mittie, if you do not think that we love you. I love
+you with a father's tender affection; I have never given you reason to
+doubt it. If I show more love for Helen, it is only because she is
+younger, smaller, and winds herself more closely around me by her
+loving, affectionate ways; she seems to love me better, to love us all
+better. That is the secret, Mittie; it is love; cling to our hearts as
+Helen does, and we will never cast you off."
+
+"I can't do as Helen does, for I'm not like her," said Mittie, tossing
+back her hair with her own peculiar motion, "and I don't want to be like
+her; she's nothing but a coward, though she makes believe half the time,
+to be petted, I know she does."
+
+"Incorrigible child;" cried the father, pushing back his chair, rising
+and walking the room back and forth, with a sad and clouded brow. He had
+many misgivings for the future. The frank, convivial, generous spirit of
+Louis would lead him into temptation, when exposed to the influence of
+seducing companions. Mittie's jealous and unyielding temper would
+embitter the peace of the household; while Helen's morbid sensibility,
+like a keen-edged sword in a thin, frail scabbard, threatened to wear
+away her young life. What firmness--yea, what gentleness--yea, what
+wisdom, what holy Christian principles were requisite for the
+responsibilities resting upon him.
+
+"May God guide and sustain me," he cried, pausing and looking upward.
+
+"May I go, sir?" asked Mittie, who had been watching her father's
+varying countenance, and felt somewhat awed by the deep solemnity and
+sadness that settled upon it. Her manner, if not affectionate was
+respectful, and he dismissed her with a gleaming hope that the clue to
+her heart's labyrinth--that labyrinth which seemed now closed with an
+immovable rock, might yet be discovered.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+    "Oh, wanton malice! deathful sport!
+      Could ye not spare my all?
+    But mark my words, on thy cold heart
+      A fiery doom will fall."
+
+
+The incident recorded in the last chapter, resulted in benefit to two of
+the actors. It gave a spring to the dormant energies of Helen, and a
+check to the vengeance of Mittie.
+
+The winter glided imperceptibly away, and as imperceptibly vernal bloom
+and beauty stole over the face of nature.
+
+In the spring of the year, Miss Thusa always engaged in a very
+interesting process--that is, bleaching the flaxen thread which she had
+been spinning during the winter. She now made a permanent home at Mr.
+Gleason's, and superintended the household concerns, pursuing at the
+same time the occupation to which she had devoted the strength and
+intensity of her womanhood.
+
+There was a beautiful grassy lawn extending from the southern side of
+the building, with a gradual slope towards the sun, whose margin was
+watered by the clearest, bluest, gayest little singing brook in the
+world. This was called Miss Thusa's bleaching ground, and nature seemed
+to have laid it out for her especial use. There was the smooth, fresh,
+green sward, all ready for her to lay her silky brown thread upon, and
+there was the pure water running by, where she could fill her watering
+pot, morning, noon and night, and saturate the fibres exposed to the
+sun's bleaching rays. And there was a thick row of blossoming lilac
+bushes shading the lower windows the whole breadth of the building, in
+which innumerable golden and azure-colored birds made their nests, and
+beguiled the spinster's labors with their melodious carrolings.
+
+Helen delighted in assisting Miss Thusa in watering her thread, and
+watching the gradual change from brown to a pale brown, and then to a
+silver gray, melting away into snowy whiteness, like the bright brown
+locks of youth, fading away into the dim hoariness of age. When weary of
+dipping water from the wimpling brook, she would sit under the lilac
+bushes, and look at Miss Thusa's sybilline figure, moving slowly over
+the grass, swaying the watering-pot up and down in her right hand,
+scattering ten thousand liquid diamonds as she moved. Sometimes the
+rainbows followed her steps, and Helen thought it was a glorious sight.
+
+One day as Helen tripped up and down the velvet sward by her side,
+admiring the silky white skeins spread multitudinously there, Miss
+Thusa, gave an oracular nod, and said she believed that was the last
+watering, that all they needed was one more night's dew, one more
+morning sun, and then they could be twisted in little hanks ready to be
+dispatched in various directions.
+
+"I am proud of that thread," said Miss Thusa, casting back a lingering
+look of affection and pride as she closed the gate. "It is the best I
+ever spun--I don't believe there is a rough place in it from beginning
+to end. It was the best flax I ever had, in the first place. When I
+pulled it out and wound it round the distaff, it looked like ravelled
+silk, it was so smooth and fine. Then there's such a powerful quantity
+of it. Well, it's my winter's work."
+
+Poor Miss Thusa! You had better take one more look on those beautiful,
+silvery rings--for never more will your eyes be gladdened by their
+beauty! There is a worm in your gourd, a canker in your flower, a cloud
+floating darkly over those shining filaments.
+
+It is astonishing how wantonly the spirit of mischief sometimes revels
+in the bosom of childhood! What wild freaks and excursions its
+superabundant energies indulge in! And when mischief is led on by
+malice, it can work wonders in the way of destruction.
+
+It happened that Mittie had a gathering of her school companions in the
+latter part of the day on which we have just entered. Helen, tired of
+their rude sports, walked away to some quiet nook, with the orphan
+child. Mittie played Queen over the rest, in a truly royal style. At
+last, weary of singing and jumping the rope, and singing "Merry
+O'Jenny," they launched into bolder amusements. They ran over the
+flower-beds, leaping from bed to bed, trampling down many a fair, vernal
+bud, and then trying their gymnastics by climbing the fences and the low
+trees. A white railing divided Miss Thusa's bleaching ground, with its
+winding rill, from the garden, and as they peeped at the white thread
+shining on the grass, thinking the flaming sword of Miss Thusa's anger
+guarded that enclosure, Mittie suddenly exclaimed:
+
+"Let us jump over and dance among Miss Thusa's thread. It will be better
+than all the rest."
+
+"No, no," cried several, drawing back, "it would be wrong. And I'm
+afraid of her. I wouldn't make her mad for all the world."
+
+"I'll leave the gate open, and she'll think the calves have broken in,"
+cried Mittie, emboldened by the absence of her father, and feeling
+safety in numbers. "Cowards," repeated she, seeing they still drew back.
+"Cowards!--just like Helen. I despise to see any one afraid of any
+thing. I hate old Madam Thusa, and every thing that belongs to her."
+
+Vaulting over the fence, for there would have been no amusement in going
+through the gate, Mittie led the way to the forbidden ground, and it was
+not long before her companions, yielding to the influence of her bold,
+adventurous spirit, followed. Disdaining to cross the rustic bridge that
+spanned the brook, they took off their shoes and waded over its pebbly
+bed. They knew Miss Thusa's room was on the opposite side of the house,
+and while running round it, they had heard the hum of her busy wheel, so
+they did not fear her watching eye.
+
+"Now," said Mittie, catching one of the skeins with her nimble feet, and
+tossing it in the air; "who will play cat's cradle with me?"
+
+The idea of playing cat's cradle with the toes, for they had not resumed
+their shoes and stockings, was so original and laughable, it was
+received with acclamation, and wild with excitement they rushed in the
+midst of Miss Thusa's treasures--and such a twist and snarl as they made
+was never seen before. They tied more Gordian knots than a hundred
+Alexanders could sever, made more tangles than Princess Graciosa in the
+fairy tale could untie.
+
+"What shall we do with it now?" they cried, when the novelty of the
+occupation wore off, and conscience began to give them a few remorseful
+twinges.
+
+"Roll it up in a ball and throw it in the brook," said Mittie, "she'll
+think some of her witches have carried it off. I'll pay her for it," she
+added, with a scornful laugh, "if she finds us out and makes a fuss. It
+can't be worth more than a dollar--and I would give twice as much as
+that any time to spite the old thing."
+
+So they wound up the dirty, tangled, ruined thread into a great ball,
+and plunged it into the stream that had so often laved the whitening
+filaments. Had Miss Thusa seen it sinking into the blue, sunny water,
+she would have felt as the mariner does when the corpse of a loved
+companion is let down into the burying wave.
+
+In a few moments the gate was shut, the green slope smiled in answer to
+the mellow smile of the setting sun, the yellow birds frightened away by
+the noisy groups, flew back to their nests, among the fragrant lilacs,
+and the stream gurgled as calmly as if no costly wreck lay within its
+bosom.
+
+When the last beam of the sinking sun glanced upon her distaff, turning
+the fibres to golden filaments, Miss Thusa paused, and the crank gave a
+sudden, upward jerk, as if rejoiced at the coming rest. Putting her
+wheel carefully in its accustomed corner, she descended the stairs, and
+bent her steps to the bleaching ground. She met Helen at the gate, who
+remembered the trysting hour.
+
+"Bless the child," cried Miss Thusa, with a benevolent relaxation of her
+harsh features, "she never forgets any thing that's to do for another.
+Never mind getting the watering-pot now. There'll be a plenty of dew
+falling."
+
+Taking Helen by the hand she crossed the rustic bridge; but as she
+approached the green, she slackened her pace and drew her spectacles
+over her eyes. Then taking them off and rubbing them with her silk
+handkerchief, she put them on again and stood still, stooping forward,
+and gazing like one bewildered.
+
+"Where is the thread, Miss Thusa?" exclaimed Helen, running before her,
+and springing on the slope. "When did you take it away?"
+
+"Take it away!" cried she. "Take it away! I never _did_ take it away.
+But _somebody_ has taken it--stolen it, carried it off, every skein of
+it--not a piece left the length of my finger, my finger nail. The vile
+thieves!--all my winter's labor--six long months' work--dead and buried!
+for all me--"
+
+"Poor Miss Thusa!" said Helen, in a pitying accent. She was afraid to
+say more--there was something so awe-inspiring in the mingled wrath and
+grief of Miss Thusa's countenance.
+
+"What's the matter?" cried a spirited voice. Louis appeared on the
+bridge, swinging his hat in the air, his short, thick curls waving in
+the breeze.
+
+"Somebody's stolen all Miss Thusa's thread," exclaimed Helen, running to
+meet him, "her nice thread, that was just white enough to put away. Only
+think, Louis, how wicked!"
+
+"Oh! Miss Thusa, it can't be stolen," said Louis, coming to the spot
+where she stood, the image of indignant despair; "somebody has hidden it
+to tease you. I'll help you to find it."
+
+This seemed so natural a supposition, that Miss Thusa's iron features
+relaxed a little, and she glanced round the enclosure, more in
+condescension than hope, surveying the boughs of the lilacs, drooping
+with their weight of purple blossoms, and peering at the gossamer's web.
+
+Louis, in the meantime, turned towards the stream, now partially
+enveloped in the dusky shade of twilight, but there was one spot
+sparkling with the rosy light of sunset, and resting snugly 'mid the
+pebbles at the bottom, he spied a large, dingy ball.
+
+"Ah! what's this big toad-stool, rising up in the water?" said he,
+seizing a pole that lay under the bridge, and sticking the end in the
+ball. "Why this looks as if it had been thread, Miss Thusa, but I don't
+know what you will call it now?"
+
+Miss Thusa snatched the dripping ball from the pole that bent beneath
+its weight, turned it round several times, bringing it nearer and nearer
+to her eyes at each revolution, then raised it above her head, as if
+about to dash it on the ground; but suddenly changing her resolution,
+she tightened her grasp, and strode into the path leading to the house.
+
+"I know all about it now," she cried, "I heard the children romping and
+trampling round the house like a drove of wild colts, with Mittie at
+their head; it is she that has done it, and if I don't punish her, it
+will be because the Lord Almighty does it for me."
+
+Even Louis could scarcely keep up with her rapid strides. He trembled
+for the consequences of her anger, just as it was, and followed close to
+see if Mittie, undaunted as she was, did not shrivel in her gaze.
+
+Mittie was seated in a window, busily studying, or pretending to study,
+not even turning her head, though Miss Thusa's steps resounded as if she
+were shod with iron.
+
+"Look round, Miss, if you please, and tell me if you know any thing of
+this," cried Miss Thusa, laying her left hand on her shoulder, and
+bringing the ball so close to her face that her nose came in contact
+with it.
+
+Mittie jerked away from the hand laid upon her with no velvet pressure,
+without opening her lips, but the guilty blood rising to her face spoke
+eloquently; though she had a kind of Procrustes bed of her own,
+according to which she stretched or curtailed the truth, she had not the
+hardihood to tell an unmitigated falsehood, in the presence of her
+brother, too, and in the light of his truth-beaming eye.
+
+"You are always accusing _me_ of every thing," said she, at length. "I
+didn't do it----all;" the last syllable was uttered in a low, indistinct
+tone.
+
+"You are a mean coward," cried the spinster, hurling the ball across the
+room with such force that it rebounded against the wall. "You're a
+coward with all your audacity, and do tricks you are ashamed to
+acknowledge. You've spoiled the honest earnings of the whole winter, and
+destroyed the beautifullest suit of thread that ever was spun by mortal
+woman."
+
+"I can pay you for all I spoiled and more too," said Mittie, sullenly.
+
+"Pay me," repeated Miss Thusa, while the scorching fire of her eye
+slowly went out, leaving an expression of profound sorrow. "Can you pay
+me for a value you can't even dream of? Can you pay me for the lonely
+thoughts that twisted themselves up with that thread, day after day, and
+night after night, because they had nothing else to take hold of? Can
+you pay me for these grooves in my fingers' ends, made by the flax as I
+kept drawing it through, till it often turned red with my blood? No,
+no, that thread was as dear to me as my own heart strings--for they were
+twined all about it; it was like something living to me--and I loved it
+in the same way as I do little Helen. I shall never, never spin any
+more."
+
+"You will spin more merrily than ever," cried Louis, soothingly, "you
+see if you don't, Miss Thusa."
+
+Miss Thusa shook her head, and though she almost suffocated herself in
+the effort to repress them, tears actually forced themselves into her
+eyes, and splashed on her cheeks. Seating herself in a low chair, she
+took up the corner of her apron to hide what she considered a shame and
+disgrace, when Helen glided near and wiped away the drops with her own
+handkerchief.
+
+"Bless you darling," cried the subdued spinster--"and you will be
+blessed. There's no malice, nor hard-heartedness in _you_. _You_ never
+turned your foot upon a worm. But as for her," continued she, pointing
+prophetically at Mittie, and fixing upon her her grave and gloomy
+eyes--"there's no blessing in store. She don't feel now, but if she
+lives to womanhood she _will_. The heart of stone will turn to flesh
+then, and every fibre it has got will learn how to quiver, as I've seen
+twisted wire do, when strong fingers pull it--_I know it will_. She will
+shed tears one of these days, and no one will wipe them off, as this
+little angel has done for me. I've done, now. I didn't mean to say what
+I did, but the Lord put it in my head, and I've spoken according to my
+gift."
+
+Mittie ran out of the room before the conclusion of the speech, unable
+to stand the moveless glance, that seemed to burn like heated metal into
+her conscience.
+
+"Come, Miss Thusa," said Louis, amiably, desirous of turning her
+thoughts into a new channel, and pitying while he blamed his offending
+sister, for the humiliation he knew she must endure--"come and tell us a
+story, while you are inspired. It is so long since I have heard one! Let
+it be something new and exciting."
+
+"I don't believe I could tell you one to save my life, now," replied
+Miss Thusa, her countenance lighting up with a gleam of
+satisfaction--"at least I couldn't act it out."
+
+"Never mind the acting, Miss Thusa, provided we hear the tale. Let it be
+a _powerful_ one."
+
+"Don't tell the _worm-eaten traveler_," whispered Helen. "I never want
+to hear that again."
+
+Miss Thusa see-sawed a moment in her low chair, to give a kind of
+balance to her imagination, and then began:
+
+"Once there was a maiden, who lived in a forest, a deep wild forest, in
+which there wasn't so much as the sign of a path, and nobody but she
+could find their way in or out. How this was, I don't know, but it was
+astonishing how many people got lost in those woods, where she rambled
+about as easy as if somebody was carrying a torch before her. Perhaps
+the fairies helped her--perhaps the evil spirits--I rather think the
+last, for though she was fair to look upon, her heart was as hard as the
+nether mill-stone."
+
+Miss Thusa caught a glimpse of Mittie, on the porch, through the open
+doors, and she raised her voice, as she proceeded:
+
+"One night, when the moon was shining large and clear, she was wandering
+through the forest, all alone, when she heard a little, tender voice
+behind her, and turning round, she saw a young child, with its hair all
+loose and wet, as 'twere, calling after her.
+
+"'I've lost my way,' it cried--'pray help me to find a path in the
+greenwood.'
+
+"'Find it by the moonlight,' answered the maiden, 'it shines for you, as
+well as for me.'
+
+"'But I'm little,' cried the child, beginning to weep, 'and my feet are
+all blistered with running. Take me up in your arms a little while, for
+you are strong, and the Saviour will give you a golden bed in Heaven to
+lie down on.'
+
+"'I want no golden bed. I had rather sleep on down than gold,' answered
+the maid, and she mocked the child, and went on, putting her hands to
+her ears, to keep out the cries of the little one, that came through the
+thick trees, with a mighty piteous sound--the hard-hearted creature!"
+
+"How cruel!" said Helen, "I hope she got lost herself."
+
+"Don't interrupt, Helen," said Louis, whose eyes were kindling with
+excitement. "You may be sure she had some punishment."
+
+"Yes, that she did," continued the narrator, "and I tell you it was
+worse than being lost, bad as that is. By-and-by she came out of the
+forest, into a smooth road, and a horseman galloped to meet her, that
+would have scared anybody else in the world but her. Not that he was so
+ugly, but he was dressed all in black, and he had such a powerful head
+of black hair, that hung all about him like a cloak, and mixed up with
+the horse's flowing mane, and that was black too, and so was his horse,
+and so were his eyes, but his forehead was as white as snow, and his
+cheeks were fair and ruddy. He rode right up to the young maiden, and
+reaching down, swung his arm round her, and put her up before him on the
+saddle, and away they rode, as swift as a weaver's shuttle. I don't
+believe a horse ever went so fast before. Every little stone his hoofs
+struck, would blaze up, just for a second, making stars all along the
+road. As they flew on, his long black hair got twisted all around her,
+and every time the wind blew, it grew tighter and tighter, till she
+could scarcely breathe, and she prayed him to stop, and unwind his long
+black hair, before it reached her throat, for as sure as she was alive
+then, it would strangle her.
+
+"'You have hands as well as I,' said he, with a mocking laugh, 'unwind
+it yourself, fair maiden.'
+
+"Then she remembered what she had said to the poor little lost child,
+and she cried out as the child did, when she left it alone in the
+forest. All the time the long locks of hair seemed taking root in her
+heart, and drawing it every step they went.
+
+"'Now,' said her companion, reining up his black horse, 'I'll release
+you.'
+
+"And unsheathing a sharp dagger, he cut the hair through and through, so
+that part of it fell on the ground in a black shower. Then giving her a
+swing, he let her fall by the way-side, and rode on hurraing by the
+light of the moon."
+
+Miss Thusa paused to take breath, and wiped her spectacles, as if she
+had been reading with them all the time she had been talking.
+
+"Is that all?" asked Helen.
+
+"No, indeed, that cannot be the end," said Louis. "Go on Miss Thusa. The
+black knight ought to be scourged for leaving her there on the ground."
+
+"There she lay," resumed Miss Thusa, "moaning and bewailing, for her
+heart's blood was oozing out through every wound his dagger had made,
+for I told you his locks had taken root in her heart, and he cut the
+cords when he slashed about among his own long, black hair.
+
+"'I'm dying,' said the maiden. 'Oh, what would I give now for that
+golden bed of the Saviour, the little child promised me.'
+
+"Just then she heard the patter of little feet among the fallen leaves,
+and looking up, there was the child, sure enough, right by her side, and
+there was something bright and shining all around its head. How it found
+its way out of the woods, the Lord only knows. Well, the child didn't
+bear one bit of malice, for it was a holy child, and kneeling down, it
+took a crystal vial from its bosom, and poured balm on the bleeding
+heart of the maiden, and healed every wound.
+
+"'You are a holy child,' said the maiden, rising up, and taking the
+child in her arms, and pressing her close to her bosom. 'I know it by
+the light around your head. I'll love all little children for your sake,
+and nevermore mock the cry of sorrow or of want.'
+
+"So they went away together into the deep woods, and one could see the
+moon shining on them, every now and then, through the trees, and it was
+a lovely sight."
+
+There was silence for a few moments after Miss Thusa finished her
+legend, for never had she related any thing so impressively.
+
+"Oh, Miss Thusa," cried Helen, "that is the prettiest story I ever heard
+you relate. I am glad the child was not lost, and I am glad that the
+maiden did not die, but was sorry for what she had done."
+
+"Do you make up your tales yourself, Miss Thusa," asked Louis, "or do
+you remember them? I cannot imagine where they all come from."
+
+"Some are the memories of my childhood;" replied she, "and some the
+inventions of my own brain; and some are a little of one and a little of
+the other; and some are the living truth itself. I don't always know
+what I am going to say myself, when I begin, but speak as the spirit
+moves. This shows that it is a gift--praise the Lord."
+
+"Well, Miss Thusa, the spirit moves you to say that the little child
+forgave the cruel maiden, and poured balm upon her bleeding heart,"
+said Louis, with one of his own winning smiles.
+
+"And you think an old woman should forgive likewise!" cried Miss Thusa,
+looking as benignantly as she _could_ look upon the boy. "You are right,
+you are right, but her heart don't bleed yet--_not yet_."
+
+Mittie, believing herself unseen, had listened to the tale with an
+interest that chained her to the spot where she stood. She unconsciously
+identified herself with the cruel maiden, and in after years she
+remembered the long, sweeping locks of the knight, and the maiden's
+bleeding heart.
+
+
+
+
+PART SECOND.
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+                "Thus with the year
+    Seasons return, but not to me returns
+    Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn,
+    Or signs of vernal bloom, or summer's rose,
+    Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine.
+    But clouds instead, and ever-during dark
+    Surround me."
+
+    _Milton._
+
+    "Thou, to whom the world unknown,
+    With all its shadowy shapes is shown,
+    Who see'st appalled, th' unreal scene,
+    While Fancy lifts the veil between,
+      Ah, Fear! ah, frantic Fear!
+      I see, I see thee near!"
+
+    _Collins._
+
+
+Six years gliding away, have converted the boy of twelve into the
+collegian of eighteen years, the girl of nine into the boarding-school
+Miss of fifteen, and the child of seven into the little maiden of
+thirteen.
+
+Let us give a hasty glance at the most prominent events of these six
+gliding years, and then let the development of character that has gone
+on during the period, be shown by the events which follow.
+
+The young doctor did not forget to speak to his mother of the
+interesting child, whom destiny seemed to have made a protegé of his
+own. In consequence, a pressing invitation was sent by Mrs. Hazleton,
+the widowed mother of Arthur, to the young Helen, who, from that time
+became an annual guest at the Parsonage--such was the name of the home
+of the young doctor. It was about a day's ride from Mr. Gleason's, and
+situated in one of the loveliest portions of the lovely valley of the
+Connecticut. Helen soon ceased to consider herself a visitor, and to
+look upon the Parsonage as another and dearer home; for though she
+dearly loved her father and brother, she found a far lovelier and more
+lovable sister in the sweet, blind Alice, than the heart-repelling
+Mittie.
+
+Miss Thusa, whose feelings towards Mittie had been in a kind of volcanic
+state, since the destruction of her thread, always on the verge of an
+eruption, determined, during the first absence of her favorite Helen to
+resume her itinerant mode of existence; so, sending her wheel in
+advance, the herald cry of "Miss Thusa's coming," once more resounded
+through the neighborhood.
+
+Louis entered college at a very early age, leaving a dreary blank in the
+household, which his joyous spirit had filled with sunshine.
+
+It is not strange that under such circumstances the lonely widower
+should think of a successor to his lost wife, for Mittie needed a
+mother's restraining influence and guardian care. Nor is it strange,
+with her indomitable self-will, she should resist the authority of a
+stranger. When her father announced his intention of bringing home a
+lady to preside over his establishment, claiming for her all filial
+respect and obedience, she flew into a violent passion, and declared she
+would never own her as a mother, never address her as such--that she
+would leave home and never return, before she would submit to the
+government of a stranger. Unwilling to expose the woman who had
+consented to be his wife to scenes of strife and unhappiness, Mr.
+Gleason, as the only alternative, resolved to send his daughter to a
+boarding-school, before his mansion received its new mistress. Mittie
+exulted in this arrangement, for a boarding-school was the Ultima Thule
+of her ambition, and she boasted to her classmates that her father was
+afraid of her, and that he dared not marry while she was at home.
+Amiable boast of a child!--especially a daughter.
+
+Mr. Gleason was anxious to recall Helen, and place her at once under her
+new mother's guardianship, but Mrs. Hazleton pleaded, and the blind
+Alice pleaded with the mute eloquence of her sightless eyes, and the
+young doctor pleaded; and Helen, after being summoned to welcome her new
+parent, and share in the wedding festivities, was permitted to return to
+her beloved Parsonage.
+
+It was a beautiful spot--so rural, so retired, so far from the public
+road, so removed from noise and dust. It had such a serene, religious
+aspect, the traveler looking up the long avenue of trees, with a
+gradually ascending glance, to the unambitious, gray-walled mansion,
+situated at its termination, thought it must be one of the sweetest
+havens of rest that God ever provided for life's weary pilgrim.
+
+And so it was--and so Helen thought, when wandering with the blind Alice
+through the sequestered fields and wild groves surrounding the dwelling,
+or seated within the low, neat, white-washed walls, and listening to the
+mild, maternal accents of Arthur Hazleton's mother.
+
+It was a mild summer evening. The windows were all open, and the smell
+of the roses that peeped in through the casements, made sweeter as well
+as brighter by the dews of night, perfumed the whole apartment.
+Sometimes the rising breeze would scatter a shower of rose-leaves on the
+carpet, casting many a one on the heads of the young girls seated at a
+table, on either side of Mrs. Hazleton. Helen heeded not the petals that
+nestled in the hazel waves of her short, brown hair, but Alice, whose
+touch and hearing were made marvelously acute by her blindness, could
+have counted every rose-leaf that covered her fair, blonde ringlets.
+
+They were both engaged in the same occupation--knitting purses--and no
+one could have told by the quick, graceful motions of the fingers of
+Alice, that they moved without one guiding ray from those beautiful blue
+eyes, that seemed to follow all their intricacies. Neither could any one
+have known, by gazing on those beautiful eyes, that the _soul_ did not
+look forth from their azure depths. There was a soft dreaminess floating
+over the opaque orbs, like the dissolving mist of a summer's morning,
+that appeared but the cloudiness of thought. Alice was uncommonly
+lovely. Her complexion had a kind of rosy fairness, indicative of the
+pure under-current which, on every sudden emotion, flowed in bright
+waves to her cheeks. This was a family peculiarity, and one which Helen
+remarked in the young doctor the first time she beheld him. Her profuse
+flaxen hair fell shadingly over her brow, and an acute observer might
+have detected her blindness by her suffering the fair locks to remain
+till a breeze swept them aside. They did not _veil her vision_. Mrs.
+Hazleton, with pardonable maternal vanity, loved to dress her beautiful
+blind child in a manner decorating to her loveliness. A simple white
+frock in summer, ornamented with a plain blue ribbon, constituted her
+usual holiday attire. She could select herself the color she best liked,
+by passing her hand over the ribbon, and though her garments and Helen's
+were of the same size, she could tell them apart, from the slightest
+touch.
+
+Helen was less exquisitely fair, less beautiful than Alice, but hers was
+an eye of sunbeams and shadows, that gave wonderful expression to her
+whole face. Some one has observed that "every face is either a history
+or a prophecy." Child as Helen was, hers was _both_. You could read in
+those large, pensive, hazel eyes, a history of past sufferings and
+trials. You could read, too, in their deep, appealing, loving
+expression, a prophecy of all a woman's heart is capable of feeling or
+enduring.
+
+"I never saw such eyes in the head of a child," was a common remark upon
+Helen. "There is something wildly, hauntingly interesting in them; one
+loves and pities her at the first glance."
+
+Helen was too pale and thin to be a beautiful child, but with such a
+pair of haunting eyes, soft, silky hair of the same hazel hue, hanging
+in short curls just below her ears, and a mouth of rare and winning
+sweetness, she was sure to be remembered when no longer present. She
+looked several years older than Alice, though of the same age, for the
+calm features of the blind child had never known the agitations of
+terror or the vague apprehensions of unknown evil. Every one said "Helen
+would be pretty," and felt that she was interesting.
+
+Now, while knitting her purse, and sliding the silver beads along the
+blue silken thread, she would look up with an eager, listening
+countenance, as if her thoughts were gone forth to meet some one, who
+delayed their coming.
+
+Alice, too, was listening with an expecting, waiting heart--one could
+tell it by the fluttering of the blue ribbon that encircled her neck.
+
+"He will not come to-night, mother," said she, with a sigh. "It is never
+so late as this, when he rides in through the gate."
+
+"I fear some accident has happened," cried Helen, "he has a very bad
+bridge to cross, and the stream is deep below."
+
+"How much that sounds like Helen," exclaimed Mrs Hazleton, "so fearful
+and full of misgivings! I shall not give him up before ten o'clock. If
+you like, you can both sit up and bear me company--if not, you may leave
+me to watch alone."
+
+They both eagerly exclaimed that they would far rather sit up with her,
+and then they were sure they could finish their purses, and have them
+ready as gifts for the brother and friend so anxiously looked for.
+Though the distance that separated them from him was short, and his
+visits frequent, they were ever counted as holidays of the heart, as
+eras from which all past events were dated--and on which all future ones
+were dependent.
+
+"When Arthur was here, we did so and so." "When Arthur comes, we will do
+this and that." A stranger would have thought Arthur the angel of the
+Parsonage, and that his coming was the advent of peace, and joy, and
+love. It was ever thus that listening ears and longing eyes and waiting
+hearts watched his approach. He was an only son and brother, and seldom
+indeed is it that Heaven vouchsafes such a blessing to a household, as a
+son and brother like Arthur Hazleton.
+
+"He's coming," cried Alice, jumping up and clapping her hands, "I hear
+his horse galloping towards the gate. I know the sound of its hoofs from
+all others."
+
+This was true. The unerring ear of the blind girl never deceived her.
+Arthur was indeed coming. The gate opened. His rapid footstep was heard
+passing through the avenue, bounding up the steps, and there they were
+arrested by the welcoming trio, all ready to greet him. It was a happy
+moment for Arthur when wrapped in that triune embrace, for Helen, timid
+as she was, had learned to look upon him as a dear, elder brother, whose
+cares and affection were divided between her and the sightless Alice;
+and for whom she felt a love equal to that which she cherished for
+Louis, mingled with a reverence and admiration that bordered upon
+worship.
+
+"My dear mother," said he, when they had escorted him into the
+sitting-room, and in spite of his resistance made him take the best and
+pleasantest seat in the room, "my dear mother, I hope I have not kept
+you up too late; I would have been here sooner, but you know I am a
+servant of the public, and my time is not my own."
+
+"Oh! brother, I am so glad to see you!" cried Alice, pressing her
+glowing cheek against his hand. It was thus she always said; and she did
+see him with her spirit's eyes, beautiful as a son of the morning, and
+radiant as the god of day. She passed her hands softly over his dark,
+brown locks, over the contour of his cheeks and chin with a kind of
+lingering, mesmerizing touch, which seemed to delight in tracing the
+lineaments of symmetry and grace.
+
+"Brother," she said, "your cheeks are reddening--I know it by their
+warmth. What makes the blood come up to the cheeks when the heart is
+glad? Helen's are red, too, for I know it by the throbbings of her
+heart."
+
+"Helen has one pale cheek and one red one," answered Arthur, passing his
+arm around her and drawing her towards him. "If she were a little
+older," added he, bending down and kissing the pale cheek, "we might
+bring a rose to this, and then they would be blooming twins."
+
+The rose did bloom most beautifully at his touch, and a smile of
+affectionate delight gilded the child's pensive lips.
+
+"Alice, my dear, what have you and Helen been doing since I was here?
+You are always planning something to surprise me--something to make me
+glad and grateful."
+
+"We have been knitting a purse for you, brother, each of us; and mother
+had just finished sewing on the tassel when you came. Tell me which is
+mine, and which is Helen's," cried she, taking them both from the table
+and mingling the hues of cerulean and emerald, the glitter of the golden
+globules which ornamented the one, and the silver beads which starred
+the other, in her hand.
+
+"The green and gold must be Helen's--the silver and blue yours, Alice.
+Am I right?"
+
+"No. But will you care if it is exactly the reverse. Helen chose the
+blue because it was my favorite color, and she thought you would prize
+it most. Green was left for me, and then, you know, I was obliged to mix
+it with gold."
+
+"But why was green left for you? and why were you _obliged_ to mix it
+with gold, instead of silver?" asked he, interested in tracing the
+origin of her associations.
+
+"I like but two colors," she replied, thoughtfully; "blue and green, the
+blue of the heavens, the green of the earth. It seems that gold is like
+sunshine, and the golden beads must resemble sunbeams on the green
+grass. Silver is like moonlight, and Helen's purse must make you think
+of moonbeams, shining from the bright blue sky."
+
+"Why, my sweet Alice, where did the poetry of your thoughts come from? I
+know not how such charming associations are born, unless of sight. Oh!
+there must be an inner light, purer and clearer than outward vision
+knows, in which the great source of light bathes the spirit of the
+blind."
+
+He paused a moment, with his eyes intently fixed on the soft, hazy orbs,
+which gave back no answering rays--then added, in a gayer tone--
+
+"And so I am the owner of these beautiful purses. How proud and happy I
+ought to be! It will be long, I fear, before I shall fill them with
+gold--and even if I could, it would be a shame to soil them with the
+yellow dust of temptation. I will cherish them both. Yours, Alice, will
+always remind me of all that is beautiful on earth, woven of this
+brilliant green and gold. And yours, Helen, blue as the sky, of all that
+is holy in Heaven.
+
+"But while I am thus receiving precious gifts," he added, "I must not
+forget that I am the bearer of some also. My saddle-bags are not
+entirely filled with vials and pills. Here, mother, is a bunch of
+thread, sent by Miss Thusa, white as the fleece of the unshorn lamb. She
+says she spun it expressly for you, because of your kindness to Helen."
+
+"I know by experience the beauty and value of Miss Thusa's thread," said
+Mrs Hazleton, admiring the beautiful white hanks, which her son
+unrolled; "ever since I knew Helen I have had a yearly supply, such as
+no other spinster ever made. How shall I make an adequate return?"
+
+"There is a nicely bound book in our library, mother, which would please
+her beyond expression--a history of all the celebrated murders in the
+country, within the last ten years. Here, Helen, are some keepsakes for
+you and Alice, from your mother."
+
+"How kind, how good," exclaimed Helen, "and how beautiful! A work-box
+for me, and a toilet-case for Alice. How nice--and convenient. Surely
+we ought to love her. Mittie cannot help loving her when she comes. I'm
+sure she cannot."
+
+"Your father is going for Mittie soon," said Arthur. "He bids me tell
+you that you must be ready to accompany him, and remain in her stead for
+at least three years."
+
+A cloud obscured the sunshine of Helen's countenance. The prospect which
+Mittie had hailed with exultation, Helen looked forward to with dismay.
+To be sent to a distant school, among a community of strangers, was to
+her timid, shrinking spirit, an ordeal of fire. To be separated from
+Alice, Arthur, and Mrs. Hazleton, seemed like the sentence of death to
+her loving, clinging heart.
+
+"We must all learn self-reliance, Helen," said Arthur, "we must all pass
+through the discipline of life. The time will soon come when you will
+assume woman's duties, and it is well that you go forth awhile to gather
+strength and wisdom, to meet and fulfil them. You need something more
+bracing and invigorating than the atmosphere of love that surrounds you
+here."
+
+Helen always trembled when Arthur looked very grave from the fear that
+he was displeased with her. When speaking earnestly, he had a remarkable
+seriousness of expression, implying that he meant all that he uttered.
+When Arthur Hazleton was first introduced to the reader, he was only
+eighteen; and consequently was now about twenty-four years of age. There
+was a blending of firmness and gentleness, of serene gravity and beaming
+cheerfulness in his character and countenance, which even in early
+boyhood had given him an ascendency over his young companions. There was
+a searching power in the glance of his grave, dark eye, from which one
+might shrink, were it not often softened by an expression of even
+womanly sweetness harmonizing with the gentle smile of his lips. He very
+seldom spoke of his feelings, but the rich, mantling color that ever and
+anon came glowingly to his cheek, indicated a depth of sensibility he
+was unwilling words should reveal. Left his own master at a very early
+age, his _will_ had become strong and invincible. As he almost always
+willed what was right, his mother seldom sought to bend it, and she was
+the only being in the world whose authority he acknowledged, and to
+whom he was willing to sacrifice his pride by submission.
+
+An incident which occurred the evening after his arrival, may illustrate
+his firmness and his power.
+
+It was a lovely summer afternoon, and Arthur rambled with Helen and
+Alice amid the charming groves and wild glens of his native place. His
+local attachments were exceedingly strong, for they were cherished by
+dear and sacred associations. There was a history attached to every rock
+and tree and waterfall, making it more beautiful and interesting than
+all others.
+
+"Here, Alice," he would say, "look at this magnificent tree. Our father
+used to sit under its shade and sketch the outline of his sermons. Here,
+in God's own temple, he worshiped, and his pure thoughts mingled with
+the incense that arose from the bosom of nature."
+
+Then Alice would clasp her fair arms round the tree, and laying her soft
+check against the rough bark, consecrate it to the memory of the father,
+who had died ere she beheld the light. Alas! she never had beheld it;
+but ere the light had beamed on the sightless azure of her eyes.
+
+"Helen, do you see that beetling rock, half covered with lichens and
+moss, hanging over the brawling stream? It was there I used to recline,
+when a little boy, shaded by that gnarled and fantastic looking tree,
+with book in hand, but studying most of all from the great book of
+nature. Oh! I love that spot. If I ever live to be an old man, though I
+may have wandered to the wide world's end, I want to come back and throw
+myself once more on the shelving rock where I made my boyhood's bed."
+
+While he was speaking, he led Alice and Helen on to the very verge of
+the rock, and looked down on the waterfall, tumbling below. Alice stood
+calm and still, holding, with perfect confidence, her brother's hand,
+but Helen recoiled and shuddered, and her cheek turned visibly paler.
+
+"We are close to the edge, brother--I know it by the sound of your
+voice," said Alice. "It seems to sink down and mingle with the roar of
+the water-fall."
+
+"Do you not fear, Alice?" asked her brother, drawing her still a little
+nearer.
+
+"Oh, no," she answered, with a radiant smile. "How can I fear, when I
+feel your hand sustaining me? I know, you would not lead me into danger.
+You would never let me fall."
+
+"Do you hear her?" asked he, looking reproachfully at Helen. "Oh, thou
+of little faith. When will you learn to confide, with the undoubting
+trust of this helpless blind girl? Do you believe that _I_ would
+willingly expose you to danger or suffering?"
+
+He withdrew his hand as he spoke, and Helen believing him seriously
+displeased, turned away to hide the tears that swelled into her eyes. In
+the meantime, Arthur led Alice along the edge of the rock to a little,
+natural bower beyond, which Alice called her bower, and where she and
+Helen had made a bed of moss, and adorned it with shells. Helen stood a
+moment alone on the rock, feeling as desolate as if she were the
+inhabitant of a desert island. She thought Arthur unkind, and the
+beautiful, embowering trees, gurgling waters, and sweet, singing birds,
+lost their charms to her. Slowly turning her steps homeward, yet not
+willing to enter the presence of Mrs. Hazleton without her companions,
+she lingered in the garden, making a bouquet, which she intended to give
+as a peace-offering to Arthur, when he returned. She did not enter the
+house till nearly dark, when she was surprised by seeing Arthur alone.
+
+"Where is Alice?" said he.
+
+"Alice!" repeated she, "I left her in the woods with you."
+
+"Yes! but I left her there also, in the arbor of moss, supposing you
+would soon return to her."
+
+"Left her alone!" cried Helen, wondering why Arthur, who seemed to
+idolize his lovely, blind sister, could have been so careless of her
+safety.
+
+"Alice is not afraid to be alone, Helen, she knows that God is with her.
+But it will soon be night, and she must not remain in the dark, damp
+woods much longer. You will go back and accompany her home, Helen,
+before the night-dew falls?"
+
+Helen's heart died within her at the mere thought of threading alone a
+path so densely shaded, and of passing over that beetling rock, beneath
+the gnarled, fantastic looking tree. It would be so dark before she
+returned! She went to the window, and looked out, then turned towards
+him with such a timid, wistful look, it was astonishing how he could
+have resisted the mute appeal.
+
+"Make haste, Helen," said he, gently, "it will be dark if you do not."
+
+"Will you not go with me?" she at length summoned boldness to ask.
+
+"Are you afraid to go, Helen?"
+
+She felt the dark power of his eye to her inmost soul. Death itself
+seemed preferable to his displeasure.
+
+"I _am_ afraid," she answered, "but I will go since you _will_ it."
+
+"I do wish it," he replied, "but I leave it to your own will to
+accomplish it."
+
+Helen could not believe that he really intended she should go alone,
+when _he_ had left his sister behind. She was sure he would follow and
+overtake her before she reached the narrow path she so much dreaded to
+traverse. She went on very rapidly, looking back to see if he were not
+behind, listening to hear if her name were not called by his well-known
+voice. But she heard not his footsteps, nor the sound of his voice. She
+heard nothing but the wind sighing through the trees, or the notes of
+some solitary bird, seeking its nest among the branches.
+
+"Arthur is not kind, to-day," thought she. "I wonder what has changed
+him so. It was not my place to go after Alice, when he left her himself
+in the woods. What right has he to command me so? And how foolish I am
+to obey him, as if he were my master and lord!"
+
+She was at first very angry with Arthur, and anger always gives one
+strength and power. Any excited passion does. She ran on, almost
+forgetting her fears, and the shadows lightened up as she met them face
+to face. Then she thought of Alice alone in the woods--so blind and
+helpless. Perhaps she would be frightened at the darkening solitude, and
+try to find her path homeward, on the edge of that slippery, beetling
+rock. With no hand to sustain, no eye to guide, how could she help
+falling into the watery chasm below? In her fears for Alice, she forgot
+her own imaginary danger, and flew on, sending her voice before her,
+bearing on its trembling tones the sweet name of Alice.
+
+She reached the rock, and paused under the tree that hung so darkly over
+it. The waterfall sounded so much louder than when she stood there last,
+she was sure the waters had accumulated, and were threatening to dash
+themselves above. They had an angry, turbulent roar, and keeping close
+in a line with the tree, she hurried on to the silver bower Alice so
+much loved, and which she had seen her enter, clinging to the hand of
+Arthur. Helen, had to lift up the hanging boughs and sweeping vines at
+the entrance of the arbor, and cold shivers of terror ran through her
+frame, for no voice responded to hers, though she had made the silence
+all the way vocal with the name of Alice.
+
+"If she is not here, she is dead," she cried, "and I will lie down and
+die, too; for I cannot return without her."
+
+Creeping slowly in, with suppressed breath and trembling limbs, she
+discovered something white lying on the bed of moss, so still and white,
+that it might have been mistaken in the dimness for a snow-drift, were
+it not a midsummer eve. All the old superstitions implanted in her
+infant mind by Miss Thusa's terrific legends, seized upon her
+imagination. Any thing white and still, reminded her of the
+never-to-be-forgotten moment when she gazed upon her dead mother, and
+sunk overpowered by the terror and majesty of death. If it was Alice
+lying there, she must be dead, and how could she approach nearer and
+encounter that _cold presence_ which had once communicated a death-chill
+to her young life? Then the thought of Alice's death was fraught with
+such anguish, it carried her out of herself. The grief of Arthur, the
+agony of his mother; it was too terrible to think of. Springing into the
+arbor, she ran up to the white object, and kneeling down, beheld the
+fair, clustering ringlets and rosy cheek of Alice dimly defined through
+the growing shadows. She inhaled her warm breath as she stooped over
+her, and knew it was sleep, not death, that bound her to the spot. As
+she came in contact with life, warm, breathing vitality, an
+instantaneous conviction of the folly, the preposterousness of her own
+fears, came over her. Alice calmly and quietly had fallen asleep as
+night came on, not knowing it by its darkness, but its stillness. Helen
+felt the presence of invisible angels round the slumbering Alice, and
+her fears melted away. Putting her arms softly round her, and laying
+her cheek to hers, she called upon her to wake and return, for the
+woods were getting dark with night.
+
+"Oh! how I love to sleep on this soft, mossy bed," cried Alice, sitting
+up and passing her fingers over her eyes. "I fell asleep on brother's
+arm, with the waterfall singing in my ears. Where is he, Helen? I do not
+hear his voice."
+
+"He is at home, and sent me after you, Alice," replied Helen. "How could
+he leave you alone?" she could not help adding.
+
+"I am never afraid to be left alone," said Alice, "and he knows it. But
+I am not alone. I hear some one breathing in the grotto besides you,
+Helen. I heard it when I first waked."
+
+Helen started and grasped the hand of Alice closer and closer in her
+own. Looking wildly round the grotto, she beheld a dark figure crouching
+in the corner, half-hidden by the shrubbery, and uttering a low scream,
+was about to fly, when a hoarse laugh arrested her.
+
+"It's only me," cried a rough, good-natured voice. "It's nobody but old
+Becky. Young master told me to stay and watch Miss Alice, while she
+slept, till somebody came after her. He knew old Becky wouldn't let
+anybody harm the child--not she."
+
+Old Becky, as she called herself, was a poor, harmless, half-witted
+woman, who roamed about the neighborhood, subsisting on charity, whom
+everybody knew and cared for. She was remarkably fond of children, and
+had always shown great attachment for the blind girl. She had the
+fidelity and sagacity of a dog, and would never leave any thing confided
+to her care. She would do any thing in the world for young Master Arthur
+as she styled him, or Mrs. Hazleton, for at the Parsonage she always
+found a welcome, and it seemed to her the gate of Heaven. During the
+life of Mr. Hazleton, she invariably attended public worship, and
+listened to his sermons with the most reverential attention, though she
+understood but a small portion of them--and when he died, her chief
+lamentation was that he could not preach at her funeral. If young master
+were a minister, that would be next best, but as he was only a doctor,
+she consoled herself by asking him for medicine whenever he visited
+home, whether she needed it or not, and Arthur never failed to make up
+a quantity of bread pills and starch powders to gratify poor, harmless
+Becky.
+
+"Walk before us, please, Becky," cried Helen with a lightened heart, and
+Becky marched on, proud to be of service, looking back every moment to
+see if they were safe.
+
+When they reached home, the candles were burning brightly in the
+sitting-room, and the rose trees at the windows shone with a kind of
+golden lustre in their beams. Helen suffered Becky to accompany Alice
+into the house, knowing it would be to her a source of pride and
+pleasure, and seating herself on the steps, tried to school herself so
+as to appear with composure, and not allow Arthur to perceive how deeply
+his apparent unkindness had wounded her feelings. While she thus sat,
+breathing on the palm of her hand, and pressing it against her moist
+eyelids to absorb the welling tears, Arthur himself crossed the yard and
+came rapidly up the steps.
+
+"What are you doing here, my sister?" said he, sitting down by her and
+drawing away the hand from her showery eyes. Never had he spoken so
+gently, so kindly. Helen could not answer. She only bowed her head upon
+her lap.
+
+"My dear Helen," said he, in that grave, earnest tone which always had
+the effect of command, "raise your head and listen to me. I have wounded
+my own feelings that I might give you a needed lesson, and prove to
+yourself that you have moral courage sufficient to triumph over physical
+and mental weakness. You have thought me cruel. Perhaps I have been
+so--but I have given present pain for your future joy and good. I
+followed you, though you knew it not, ready to ward off every real
+danger from your path. Oh, Helen, I grieve for the sufferings
+constitutional sensitiveness and inculcated fear occasion you, but I
+rejoice when I see you struggling with yourself, and triumphing through
+the strength of an exerted will."
+
+"I deserve no credit for going," sobbed Helen. "I could not help it."
+
+"But no one _forced_ you, Helen."
+
+"When you say I _will_ do any thing, I feel a force acting upon me as
+strong as iron."
+
+"It is the force of your own inborn sense of right called into action by
+me. You knew it was not right to leave our blind Alice in the dark
+woods alone. If I were cruel enough to desert her, and refuse to seek
+her, her claim on your kindness and care was not the less commanding.
+You could not have laid your head upon your pillow, or commended
+yourself to the guardianship of Providence, thinking of Alice in the
+lonely woods, damp with the dews of night. Besides, you knew in your
+secret heart I could not send you on a dangerous mission. Oh! Helen,
+would that I could inspire you, not so much with implicit confidence in
+me, as in that Mighty guardian power that is ever around and about you,
+from whose presence you cannot flee, and in whose protection you are
+forever safe."
+
+"Forgive me," cried Helen, in a subdued, humble tone. "I have done you
+great wrong in thinking you cruel. I wonder you have not given me up
+long ago, when I am so weak and foolish and distrustful. I thought I was
+growing brave and strong--but the very first trial proved that I am
+still the same, and so it will ever be. Neither the example of Alice,
+nor the counsels of your mother, nor your own efforts, do me any good. I
+shall always be unworthy of your cares."
+
+"Nay, Helen, you do yourself great injustice. You have shown a heroism
+this very night in which you may glory. Though you have encountered no
+real danger, you battled with an imaginary host, which no man could
+number, and the victory was as honorable to yourself as any that crowns
+the hero's brow with laurels. Mark me, Helen, the time will come when
+you will smile at all that now fills you with apprehension, in the
+development of your future, nobler self."
+
+Helen looked up and smiled through her tears.
+
+"Oh! if I dared to promise," said she, "I would pledge my word never to
+distrust you, never to be so foolish and weak again. But I think, I
+believe that I never will."
+
+"Do not promise, my dear Helen, for you know not your own strength. But,
+remember, that without _faith_ you will grope in darkness through the
+world--faith in your friends--faith in your God--and I will add--faith
+in yourself. From the time I first saw you a little, terror-stricken
+child, to the present moment, I have sought only your happiness and
+good--and yet forgetting all the past, you distrusted my motives even
+now, and your heart rose up against me. From the first dawn of your
+being to this sweet, star-lighted moment, God has been to you a tender,
+watchful parent, tenderer than any earthly parent, kinder than any
+earthly friend--and yet you fear to trust yourself to His providence, to
+remain with Him who fills immensity with His presence. You have no faith
+in yourself, though there is a legion of angels, nestling, with folded
+wings in that young heart, ready to fly forth at your bidding, and
+fulfil their celestial mission. Come, Helen," added he, rising, and
+lifting her at the same time from her lowly seat, "let us go in--but
+tell me first that I am forgiven."
+
+"Forgiven!" cried she, fervently. "How can I ever thank you, ever be
+sufficiently grateful for your goodness?"
+
+"By treasuring up my words, and remembering them when you are far away.
+I have influence over you now, because you are so very young, and know
+so little of the world, but a few years hence it will be very different.
+You may think of me then as a severe mentor, a cold, unfeeling sage, and
+wonder at the gentleness with which you bore my reproofs, and the
+docility with which you yielded to my will."
+
+"I shall always think of you as the best and truest friend I ever had in
+the world," cried Helen, enthusiastically, as they entered the
+sitting-room, where Mrs. Hazleton and Alice awaited them.
+
+"Because he sent you out into the woods alone?" said Mrs. Hazleton,
+smiling, "young despot that he is."
+
+"Yes," replied Helen, "for I feel so much better, stronger and happier
+for having gone. Then, if possible, I love Alice more than ever."
+
+"How do you account for that, Helen?" asked Arthur.
+
+"I don't know," she answered, "unless it is I went through a trial for
+her sake."
+
+"Helen is a metaphysician," said the young doctor. "She could not have
+given a better solution."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+    "And can it be those heavenly eyes
+    Blue as the blue of starry skies,
+    Those eyes so clear, so soft so bright,
+    Have never seen God's blessed light?"
+
+
+Helen returned to her father's, to prepare for her departure to the
+school, which Mittie was about to leave. Arthur had long resolved to
+place Alice in an Institution for the blind, and as there was a
+celebrated one in the same city to which Helen was bound, he requested
+Mr. Gleason to be her guardian on the journey, and suffer her to be the
+companion of Helen. This arrangement filled the two young girls with
+rapture, and reconciled them to the prospect of leaving home, and of
+being cast among strangers in a strange city.
+
+Ever since Alice was old enough to feel the misfortune that rested so
+darkly upon her, and had heard of those glorious institutions, where the
+children of night feel the beams of science and benevolence penetrate
+the closed bars of vision, and receive their illumination in the inner
+temple of the spirit, she had expressed an earnest wish to be sent where
+she could enjoy such advantages.
+
+"Oh!" she would repeat a thousand times, unconscious of the pain she
+inflicted on her mother; "oh! if I could only go where the blind are
+taught every thing, how happy should I be!"
+
+It is seldom that the widow of a country minister is left with more than
+the means of subsistence. Mrs. Hazleton was no exception to the general
+rule. But Arthur treasured up every word his blind sister uttered, and
+resolved to appropriate to this sacred purpose the first fruits of his
+profession. It was for this he had anticipated the years of manhood, and
+commenced the practice of medicine, under the auspices of his father's
+venerable friend, Doctor Sennar, at an age when most young men are
+preparing themselves for their public career. Success far transcending
+his most sanguine hopes having crowned his youthful exertions, he was
+now enabled to purchase the Parsonage, and present it as a filial
+offering to his mother, and also to defray the expenses of his sister's
+education.
+
+Alice had never before visited the home of Helen, and it was an
+interesting sight to see with what watchful care and protecting
+tenderness Helen guided and guarded her steps. Louis, who was at home
+also passing his summer holidays, beheld for the first time the lovely
+blind girl of whom Helen had so often spoken and written.
+
+He was now a man in appearance, of noble stature, and most prepossessing
+countenance. Helen was enthusiastically fond of her brother, and had
+said to Alice, with unconscious repetition--
+
+"Oh! how I wish you could see Louis. He is so handsome and is so good.
+He has such a brave rejoicing look. Somehow or other, I always feel safe
+in his presence."
+
+"Is he handsomer than Arthur?" Alice would ask.
+
+"No, not handsomer--but then he's so different, one cannot compare them.
+Arthur is so much older, you know."
+
+"Arthur doesn't look old, does he?"
+
+"No, not old--but he has such an air of authority sometimes, which gives
+you such an impression of power, that I would fear him, did he not all
+at once appear so gentle and so kind. Louis makes you love him all the
+time, and you never think of his being displeased."
+
+Still, while Helen dwelt on her brother's praise with fond and fluent
+tongue, she felt without being able to describe her feelings, that he
+had lost something of his original beauty. The breath of the world had
+passed over the mind and dimmed its purity. His was the joyous, reckless
+spirit that gave life to the convivial board; and temptations, which a
+colder temperament might have resisted, often held him in ignoble
+vassalage. Now inhaling the hallowed atmosphere of home, all the pure
+influences of his boyhood resumed their empire over his heart--and he
+wondered that he could ever have mingled with the grosser elements of
+society.
+
+"Blind!" repeated he to himself, while gazing on the calm, angelic
+countenance of Alice, so beautiful in its repose. "Is it possible that a
+creature so fair and bright, dwells in the darkness of perpetual
+midnight? Can no electric ray pierce the cloud that is folded over her
+vision? Is there no power in science to remove the dark fillet that
+binds those celestial eyes, and pour in upon them the light of a
+new-born day?"
+
+While he thus gazed on the unseeing face, so near him that perhaps she
+might have had a vague consciousness of the intensity, the warmth of the
+gaze, Helen approached, and taking the hand of Alice, passed it softly
+over the features of her brother, as well as his profuse and clustering
+hair.
+
+"Alice has eyes in her fingers, Louis--I want her to _see_ you and tell
+me if I have been a true painter."
+
+Louis felt the blood mounting to his temples, as the soft hand of Alice
+analyzed the outline of his face, and lingered in his hair. It seemed to
+him a cherub was fluttering its wings against his cheek, diffusing a
+peace and balminess that no language could describe.
+
+Alice, who had yielded involuntarily to the movement of Helen, drew her
+hand blushingly away.
+
+"I cannot imagine how any one can see without touching," said Alice,
+"how they can take in an image into the soul, by looking at it far off.
+You tell me the eyes feel no pleasure when gazing at any thing--that it
+is the mind only which perceives. But my fingers thrill with delight
+when I touch any thing that pleases, long afterwards."
+
+Louis longed to ask her if she felt the vibration then, but he dared not
+do it. He, in general so reckless in words, experienced a restraining
+influence he had never felt before. She seemed so set apart, so holy, it
+would be sacrilegious to address her with levity. He felt a sudden
+desire to be an oculist, that he might devote himself to the task of
+restoring to her the blessing of sight. Then he thought how delightful
+it would be to lead such a sweet creature through the world, to be eyes
+to her darkness, strength to her helplessness--the sun of her clouded
+universe. Louis had a natural chivalry about him that invested weakness,
+not only with a peculiar charm, but with a sacred right to his
+protection. With the quick, bounding impulses of eighteen, his spirit
+sprang forward to meet every new attraction. Here was one so novel, so
+pure, that his soul seemed purified from the soil of temptation, while
+he involuntarily surrendered himself to it, as Miss Thusa's thread grew
+white under the bleaching rays of a vernal sun.
+
+Miss Thusa! yes, Miss Thusa came to welcome home her young protegé,
+unchanged even in dress. It is probable she had had several new garments
+since she related to Helen the history of the worm-eaten traveler, but
+they were all of the same gray color, relieved by the black silk
+neckerchief and white tamboured muslin cap--and under the cap there was
+the same opaque fold of white paper, carefully placed on the top of the
+head.
+
+Alice had a great curiosity to _see_ Miss Thusa, as she expressed it,
+and hear some of her wild legends. When she traced the lineaments, of
+her majestic profile, and her finger suddenly rose on the lofty beak of
+her nose, she laughed outright. Alice did not often laugh aloud, but
+when she did, her laugh was the most joyous, ringing, childish burst of
+silvery music that ever gushed from the fountain of youth. It was
+impossible not to echo it. Helen feared that Miss Thusa would be
+offended, especially as Louis joined merrily in the chorus--and she
+looked at Alice as if her glance had power to check her. But she did not
+know all the windings of Miss Thusa's heart. Any one like Alice, marked
+by the Almighty, by some peculiar misfortune, was an object not only of
+tenderness, but of reverence in her eyes. The blasted tree, the blighted
+flower, the smitten lamb--all touched by the finger of God, were sacred
+things--and so were blindness and deafness--and any personal calamity.
+It was strange, but it was only in the shadows of existence she felt the
+presence of the Deity.
+
+"Never mind her laughing," said she, in answer to the apprehensive
+glance of Helen, "it don't hurt me. It does me good to hear her. It
+sounds like a singing bird in a cage; and, poor thing, she's shut in a
+dark cage for life."
+
+"No, not for life, Miss Thusa," exclaimed Louis; "I intend to study
+optics till I have mastered the whole length and breadth of the science,
+on purpose to unseal those eyes of blue."
+
+Alice turned round so suddenly, and following the sound of his voice,
+fixed upon him so eagerly those blue eyes, the effect was startling.
+
+"Will you do so?" she cried, "can you do so? oh! do not say it, unless
+you mean it. But I know it is impossible," she added in a subdued tone,
+"for I was _born blind_. God made me so, and He has made me very happy
+too. I sometimes think it would be beautiful to see, but it is beautiful
+to feel. As brother says, there is an inner-light which keeps us from
+being _all_ dark."
+
+Louis regretted the impulse which urged him to utter his secret wishes.
+He resolved to be more guarded in future, but he was already in
+imagination a student in Germany, under some celebrated optician, making
+discoveries so amazing that he would undoubtedly give a new name to the
+age in which he lived.
+
+When night came on they gathered round Miss Thusa, entreating her for a
+farewell legend, not a gloomy one, not one which would give Alice a sad,
+dark impression, but something that would come to her memory like a ray
+of light.
+
+"You must let me have my own way," said she, putting her spectacles on
+the top of her head, and looking around her with remarkable benignity.
+"If the spirit moves me one way, I cannot go another. But I will try my
+best, for may-be it's the last time some of you will ever listen to old
+Thusa's tales. She's never felt just right since they tangled up her
+heart-strings with that whitened thread. Oh! that was a vile, mean
+trick!"
+
+"Forget and forgive, Miss Thusa," cried Louis; "I dare say Mittie has
+repented of it in dust and ashes."
+
+"I have forgiven, long ago," resumed Miss Thusa, "but as for
+_forgetting_, that is out of the question. Ever since then, when the
+bleaching time comes, it keeps me perfectly miserable till it is over.
+I've never had any thread equal to it, for I'm afraid to let it stay
+long enough to be as powerful white as it used to be. Well, well, let it
+rest. You want me to tell you a story, do you?"
+
+Miss Thusa had an auditory assembled round her that might have animated
+a spirit less open to inspiration than hers. There was Mr. and Mrs.
+Gleason, the latter a fine, dignified-looking lady, and the young
+doctor, with his countenance of grave sweetness, and Louis, with an
+expression of resolute credulity, and Helen and Alice, with their arms
+interlaced, and the locks of their hair mingling like the tendrils of
+two forest vines. And what perhaps gave a glow to her spirit, deeper
+than the presence of all these, Mittie, her arch enemy, was _not there_,
+to mock her with her deriding black eyes.
+
+"You've talked to me so much about not telling you any terrible things,"
+said she, with a troubled look, "that you've made me like a candle under
+a bushel, instead of a light upon a hill-top. I've never told such
+stories since, as I used to tell when the first Mrs. Gleason was alive,
+and I spun in the nursery all the evening, and little Helen was the only
+one to listen to what I had to say. There was something in the child's
+eyes that kept me going, for they grew brighter and larger every word I
+said."
+
+Helen looked up, and met the glance of the young doctor, riveted upon
+her with so much pity and earnestness, she looked down again with a
+blending of gratitude and shame. She well knew that, notwithstanding her
+reason now taught her the folly and madness of her superstitious
+terrors, the impressions of her early childhood were burnt into her
+memory and never could be entirely obliterated.
+
+"I remember a story about a blind child, which I heard myself, when a
+little girl," said Miss Thusa, "and if I should live to the age of
+Methuselah, I never should forget it. I don't know why it stayed with me
+so long, for it has nothing terrific in it, but it comes to me many a
+time when I'm not thinking of it, like an old tune, heard long, long
+ago.
+
+"Once there was a woman who had an only child, a daughter, whose name
+was Lily. The woman prayed at the birth of the child that it might be
+the most beautiful creature that ever the sun shone upon, and she
+prayed, too, that it might be good, but because she prayed for beauty
+before goodness, it was accounted to her as a sin. The child grew, and
+as long as it was a babe in the arms, they never knew that the eyes,
+which gave so much light to others, took none back again. The mother
+prayed again, that her child might see, no matter how ugly she might
+become, no matter how dull and dim her eyes, let them but have the gift
+of sight. But Lily walked in a cloud, from the cradle to the time when
+the love-locks began to curl round her forehead, and her cheeks would
+flush up when the young men told her she was beautiful. When it was
+sunlight, her mother watched her every step she took, for fear she would
+get into danger, but she never thought of watching her by night, for
+she said the _angels took care of her then_. Lily had a little bed of
+her own, right by the window, for she told her mother she loved to feel
+the moon shining on her eye-lids, making a sort of faintish glimmer, as
+it were.
+
+"One night she lay down in the moonshine, and fell asleep, and her
+mother looked upon her for a long time, thinking how beautiful she was,
+and what a pity the young men could not take her to be a wife, she had
+such a loving heart, and seemed made so much for love. At last she fell
+asleep herself, dreaming of Lily, and did not wake till past midnight.
+Her first thought was of Lily, and she leaned on her elbow, and looked
+at the little bed, with its white counterpane, that glittered like snow
+in the moonshine. But Lily was not there, and the window was wide open.
+The woman jumped up in fright, and ran to the window and looked out, but
+she could see nothing but the trees and the woods. I wouldn't have been
+in her place for the gold of Solomon, for she was all alone, and there
+was no one living within a mile of her house. It was a wild, lonesome
+place, on a hill-side, and you could hear the roaring of water, all down
+at the bottom of the hill. Even in the day-time it was mighty dangerous
+walking among the torrents, let alone the night.
+
+"Well, the woman lifted up her voice, and wept for her blind child, but
+there was none but God to hear--and she went out into the night, calling
+after Lily every step she took, but her own voice came back to her, not
+Lily's. She went on and on, and when she got to a narrow path, leading
+along to a great waterfall, she stopped to lay her hand on her heart, to
+keep it from jumping out of her body. There was a tall, blasted pine,
+that had fallen over that waterfall, making a sort of slippery bridge to
+pass over. What should she see, right in the middle of the blasted pine
+tree, as it lay over the roaring stream, but Lily, all in white, walking
+as if she had a thousand pair of eyes, instead of none, or at least none
+that did her any good. The mother dared not say a word, any more than if
+she were dumb, so she stood like a dead woman, that is, as still,
+looking at her blind daughter, fluttering like a bird with white wings
+over the black abyss.
+
+"But what was her astonishment to behold a figure approaching Lily,
+from the opposite side of the stream, all clothed in white, too, with
+long, fair hair, parted from its brow, and large shining wings on its
+shoulders. The face was that of a beautiful youth, and he had eyes as
+soft and glorious as the moon itself, though they looked dark for all
+that.
+
+"'I come, my beloved,' cried Lily, stretching out her arms over the
+water. 'I see thee--I know thee. There is no darkness now. Oh, how
+beautiful thou art! The beams of thy shining wings touch my eyelids, and
+little silver arrows come darting in, on every side. Take me over this
+narrow bridge, lest my feet slide, and I fall into the roaring water.'
+
+"'I cannot take thee over the bridge,' replied the youth, 'but when thou
+hast crossed it, I will bear thee on my wings to a land where there is
+no blindness or darkness, not even a shadow, beautiful as these shadows
+are, all round us now. Walk in faith, and look not below. Press on, and
+fear no evil.'
+
+"'Oh! come back, my daughter!' shrieked the poor mother, rousing up from
+the trance of fear--'come back, my Lily, and leave me not alone. Come
+back, my poor blind child.'
+
+"Lily turned back a moment, and looked at her mother, who could see her,
+just as plain as day. Such a look! It was just as if a film had fallen
+from off her eyes, and a soul had come into them. They were live eyes,
+and they had been cold and dead before. They smiled with her smiling
+lips. They had never smiled before, and the mother trembled at their
+strange intelligence. She dared not call her back any more, but knelt
+right down on the ground where she was, and held her breath, as one does
+when they think a spirit is passing by.
+
+"'I can't come back, mother,' said Lily, just as she reached the bank,
+where the angel was waiting for her, for it was nobody else but an
+angel, as one might know by its wings. 'You will come to me by-and-by--I
+can see you now, mother. There's no more night for me.'
+
+"Then the angel covered her, as it were, with his wings--or rather, they
+seemed to have one pair of wings between them, and they began to rise
+above the earth, slow at first, and easy, just as you've seen the clouds
+roll up, after a shower. Then they went up faster and higher, till they
+didn't look bigger than two stars, shining up overhead.
+
+"The next day a traveler was passing along the banks of the stream,
+below the great waterfall, and he found the body of the beautiful blind
+girl, lying among the water-lilies there. Her name was Lily, you know.
+She looked as white and sweet as they did, and there never was such a
+smile seen, as there was upon her pale lips. He took her up, and curried
+her to the nearest house, which happened to be her own mother's. Then
+the mother knew that Lily had been drowned the night before, and that
+she had seen her going up to Heaven, with the twin angel, created for
+her and with her, at the beginning of creation. She felt happy, for she
+knew Lily was no longer blind."
+
+If we could give an adequate idea of Miss Thusa's manner, so solemn and
+impressive, of the tones of her voice, monotonous and slightly nasal,
+yet full of intensity, and, above all, of the expression of her
+foreboding eye, while in the act of narration, it would be easy to
+account for the effect which she produced. Helen and Alice were bathed
+in tears before the conclusion, and a deepening seriousness rested on
+the countenances of all her auditors.
+
+"You _will_ be sad and gloomy, Miss Thusa," cried Louis; "see what you
+have done; you should not have chosen such a subject."
+
+"I don't think it is sad," exclaimed Alice, raising her head and shaking
+her ringlets over her eyes to veil her tears. "I did not weep for
+sorrow, but it is so touching. Oh! I could envy Lily, when the beautiful
+angel came and bore her away on his shining wings."
+
+"I think with Alice," said the young doctor, "that it is far from being
+a gloomy tale, and the impression it leaves is salutary. The young girl,
+walking by faith, over the narrow bridge that spans the abyss of death,
+the waiting angel, and upward flight, are glorious emblems of the
+spirit's transit and sublime ascent. We are all blind, and wander in
+darkness here, but when we look back, like Lily, on the confines of the
+spirit-land, we shall see with an unclouded vision."
+
+Helen turned to him with a smile that was radiant, beaming through her
+tears. It seemed to her, at that moment, that all her vague terrors, all
+her misgivings for the future, her self-distrust and her disquietude
+melted away and vanished into air.
+
+Miss Thusa, pleased with the comment of the young doctor, was trying to
+keep down a rising swell of pride, and look easy and unconcerned, when
+Louis, taking a newspaper from his pocket, began to unfold it.
+
+"Here is a paper, Miss Thusa," said he, handing it to her as he spoke,
+"which I put aside on purpose for you. It contains an account of a
+celebrated murder, which occupies several columns. It is enough to make
+one's hair stand on end, 'like quills upon the fretted porcupine.' I am
+sure it will lift the paper crown from your head."
+
+Miss Thusa took the paper graciously, though she called him a "saucy
+boy," and adjusting her spectacles on the lofty bridge of her nose, she
+held the paper at an immense distance, and began to read.
+
+At first, they amused themselves observing the excited glance of Miss
+Thusa, moving rapidly from left to right, her head following it with a
+quick, jerking motion; but as the article was long, they lost sight of
+her, in the interest of conversation. All at once, she started up with a
+sudden exclamation, that galvanized Helen, and brought Louis to his
+feet.
+
+"What does this mean?" she cried, pointing with her finger to a
+paragraph in the paper, written in conspicuous characters. "Read it, for
+I do believe that my glasses are deceiving me."
+
+Louis read aloud, in a clear, emphatic voice, the following
+advertisement:
+
+"If Lemuel Murrey, or his sister Arathusa, are still living, if he, or
+in case of his death, she will come immediately to the town of ----, and
+call at office No. 24, information will be given of great interest and
+importance. Country editors will please insert this paragraph, several
+times, and send us their account."
+
+"Why, Miss Thusa," cried Louis, flourishing the paper over his head,
+"somebody must have left you a fortune. Only hear--_of great
+importance_! Let me be the first to congratulate you," bowing almost to
+her feet.
+
+"Nonsense!" exclaimed Miss Thusa, "I have not a relation, that I know
+of, this side of the Atlantic, and if I had, they would not be worth a
+cent in the world. It must be an imposition," and she looked sharply at
+Louis through her lowered glasses.
+
+"Upon my honor, Miss Thusa, I know nothing about it," asserted Louis. "I
+never saw it till you pointed it out to me. Whatever it means, it must
+be genuine. Do you not think so, father?"
+
+"I see no room to imagine any thing like deception here," said Mr.
+Gleason, after examining the paper. "I think you must obey the summons,
+Miss Thusa, and ascertain what blessings Providence may have in store
+for you."
+
+"Well," said Miss Thusa, with decision, "I will go to-morrow. What time
+does the stage start?"
+
+"Soon after sunrise," replied Mr. Gleason. "But you cannot undertake
+such a long journey alone. You have no experience in traveling in cars
+and steamboats, and, at your age, you will find it very fatiguing. We
+can accompany you as far as New York, but there we must part, for I am
+compelled to return without any delay. Louis, too, is obliged to resume
+his college studies. The young doctor cannot leave his patients. Suppose
+you invest some one with legal authority, Miss Thusa, to investigate the
+matter?"
+
+"I shall go myself," was the unhesitating answer. "As for going alone, I
+would not thank the King of England, if there was one, for his
+company--though I am obliged to you for thinking of my comfort. I know
+I'm getting old, but I should like to see the man, woman or child in
+this town, or any other, that can bear more than I can. I always was
+independent, thank the Lord. After living without the help of man this
+long, I hope I can get along without it at the eleventh hour. As to its
+being a money concern, I don't believe a word of it, and I wouldn't walk
+across the room, if it just concerned myself alone; but when I see the
+name of my poor, dead brother, I feel a command on me, just as if I saw
+it printed on tablets of stone, by the finger of the Lord Himself."
+
+The next morning the travelers were to commence their journey, with the
+unexpected addition of Miss Thusa's company part of the way. When her
+baggage was brought down, to the consternation of all she had her wheel,
+arrayed in a traveling costume of green baize, mounted on the top of
+her trunk, and no reasoning or persuasion could induce her to leave it
+behind.
+
+"I'm not going to let the Goths and Vandals get possession of it," she
+said, "when I'm gone. I've locked it up every night since the ruin of my
+thread, and--"
+
+"You can have it locked up while you are absent," interrupted Mrs.
+Gleason. "I will promise you that no injury shall happen to it."
+
+"Thank you," said Miss Thusa, nodding her head; "but where I go my wheel
+must go, too. What in the world shall I do, when I stop at night,
+without it? and in that idle place, the steamboat, I can spin a powerful
+quantity while the rest are doing nothing. It is neither big nor heavy,
+and it can go on the top of the stage very well, and be in nobody's
+way."
+
+"You can sit there, Miss Thusa, and spin, while you are riding," cried
+Louis, laughing; "that will have a _powerful_ effect."
+
+Helen and Alice felt very sad in parting from the friend and brother so
+much beloved, but they could not help smiling at Louis's suggestion. The
+young doctor, glad of an incident which cast a gleam of merriment on
+their tears, added another, which obviated every difficulty:
+
+"Only imagine it a new fashioned harp or musical instrument, in its
+green cover, and it will give éclat to the whole party. I am sure it is
+a harp of industry, on which Miss Thusa has played many a pleasant
+tune."
+
+The wheel certainly had a very distinguished appearance on the top of
+the stage, exciting universal curiosity and admiration. Children rushed
+to the door to look at it, as the wheels went flashing and rolling by,
+while older heads were seen gazing from the windows, till the verdant
+wonder disappeared from their view.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+    "What a fair lady!--and beside her
+    What a handsome, graceful, noble rider."--_Longfellow._
+
+      "Love was to her impassioned soul
+      Not as with others a mere part
+    Of its existence--but the whole,
+      The very life-breath of his heart."--_Moore._
+
+
+We would like to follow Miss Thusa and her wheel, and relate the manner
+in which she defended it from many a rude and insolent attack. The
+Israelites never guarded the Ark of the Covenant with more jealous care
+and undaunted courage.
+
+But as we have commenced the history of our younger favorites in early
+childhood, and are following them up the steep of life, we find they
+have a long journey before them, and we are obliged here and there to
+make a long step, a bold leap, or the pilgrimage would be too long and
+weary.
+
+We acknowledge a preference for Miss Thusa. She is a strong, original
+character, and the sunlight of imagination loves to rest upon its
+salient angles and projecting lines. When we commenced her sketch, our
+sole design was to describe her influence on the minds of others, and to
+make her a warning beacon to the mariners of life, that they might avoid
+the shoals on which the peace of so many morbidly sensitive minds have
+been wrecked. But we found a fascination in the subject which we could
+not resist. A heart naturally warm, defrauded of all natural objects on
+which to expend its living fervor, a mind naturally strong confined
+within close and narrow limits, an energy concentrated and unwasting,
+capable of carrying its possessor through every emergency and every
+trial--these characteristics of a lonely woman, however poor and
+unconnected she might be, have sometimes drawn us away from attractive
+themes.
+
+We do not know that Mittie can be called attractive, but she is young,
+handsome and intellectual, and there is a charm in youth, beauty and
+intellect that too often disarms the judgment, and renders it blind to
+moral defects.
+
+When Mittie returned from school, crowned with the laurels of the
+institution in which she had graduated, wearing the stature, and
+exhibiting the manners of a woman, though still in years a child, she
+appeared to her young companions surrounded with a _prestige_, in whose
+dazzling rays her childish faults were forgotten.
+
+Mrs. Gleason, who had been looking forward with dread to the hour of her
+step-daughter's return, met her with every demonstration of affectionate
+regard. She had never seen Mittie, and as her father always spoke of her
+as "the child," palliating her errors on the plea of her motherless
+childhood, she was not prepared for the splendidly developed, womanly
+girl, who received her kind advances with a haughty and repelling
+coldness, which brought an angry flush to the father's brow.
+
+"Mittie," said he, emphatically, "this is your _mother_. Remember that
+she is to receive from all my children the respect and affection to
+which she is eminently entitled."
+
+"I know she is your wife, sir, and that her name is Mrs. Gleason, but
+that does not make her a mother of mine," replied the young girl, with
+surprising coolness.
+
+"Mittie," exclaimed the father--what he would have said was averted by a
+hand laid gently on his arm, and a beseeching look from the eyes of the
+amiable step-mother.
+
+"Do not constrain her to call me mother," she said. "I do not despair of
+gaining her affections in time. I care not for the mere name,
+unaccompanied by the feelings which make it so dear and holy."
+
+One would have supposed that a remark like this, uttered in a calm, mild
+tone, a tone of mingled dignity and affability, would have touched a
+heart of only fifteen summer's growth, but Mittie knew not yet that she
+had a heart. She had never yet really loved a human being. Insensible to
+the sweet tendernesses of nature, it was reserved for the lightning bolt
+of passion to shiver the hard, bark-like covering, and penetrate to the
+living core.
+
+She triumphed in the thought that in the struggle for power between her
+step-mother and herself she had gained the ascendency, that she had
+never yielded one iota of her will, never called her _mother_, or
+acknowledged her legitimate and sacred claims. She began to despise the
+woman, who was weak enough, as she believed, to be overruled by a young
+girl like herself. But she did not know Mrs. Gleason--as a scene which
+occurred just one year after her return will show.
+
+Mittie was seated in her own room, where she always remained, save when
+company called expressly to see her. She never assisted her mother
+either in discharging the duties of hospitality or in performing those
+little household offices which fall so gracefully on the young.
+Engrossed with her books and studies, pursuits noble and ennobling in
+themselves, but degraded from their high and holy purpose when
+cultivated to the exclusion of the lovely, feminine virtues, Mittie was
+almost a stranger beneath her father's roof.
+
+The chamber in which she was seated bore elegant testimony to the
+kindness and liberality of her step-mother--who, before Mittie's return
+from school, had prepared and furnished this apartment expressly for her
+two young daughters. As Mittie was the eldest, and to be the first
+occupant, her supposed tastes were consulted, and her imagined wants all
+anticipated. Mrs. Gleason had a small fortune of her own, so that she
+was not obliged to draw upon her husband's purse when she wished to be
+generous. She had therefore spared no expense in making this room a
+little sanctum-sanctorum, where youth would delight to dwell.
+
+"Mittie loves books," she said, and she selected some choice and elegant
+works to fill the shelves of a swinging library--of course she must be
+fond of paintings, and the walls were adorned with pictures whose gilded
+frames relieved their soft, neutral tint.
+
+"Young girls love white. It is the appropriate livery of innocence."
+
+Therefore bed-curtains, window-curtains, and counterpane were of the
+dazzling whiteness of snow. Even the table and washstand were white,
+ornamented with gilded wreaths.
+
+"Mittie was fond of writing--all school girls are," therefore an elegant
+writing desk must be ready for her use--and though her love of sewing
+was more doubtful, a beautiful workbox was ready for her accommodation.
+She well knew the character of Mittie, and her personal opposition to
+herself, but she was determined to overcome her prejudices, and bind her
+to her by every endearing obligation.
+
+"His children _must_ love me," she said, "and all that woman can and
+ought to do shall be done by me before I relinquish my labors of love."
+
+Mittie enjoyed the gift without being grateful to the giver; she basked
+in the sunshine of comfort, without acknowledging the source from which
+it emanated. For one year she had been treated with unvarying
+tenderness, consideration, and regard, in spite of coldness,
+haughtiness, and occasional insolence, till she began to despise one who
+could lavish so much on a thankless, unreturning receiver.
+
+She was surprised when her step-mother entered her room at the unusual
+hour of bed time--and looking up from the book she was reading, her
+countenance expressed impatience and curiosity. She did not rise or
+offer her a chair, but after one rude, fixed stare, resumed her reading.
+Mrs. Gleason seated herself with perfect composure, and taking up a book
+herself, seemed to be absorbed in its contents. There was something so
+unusual in her manner that Mittie, in spite of her determination to
+appear imperturbable and careless, could not help gazing upon her with
+increasing astonishment. She was dressed in a loose night wrapper, her
+hair was unbraided, and hanging loose over her shoulders, and there was
+an air of ease and freedom diffused over her person, that added much to
+its attractions. Mittie had always thought her stiff and formal--now
+there was a graceful abandonment about her, as if she had thrown off
+chains which had galled her, or a burden which oppressed.
+
+"To what am I indebted for the honor of this visit, madam?" asked
+Mittie, throwing her book on the table with unlady-like force.
+
+"To a desire for a little private conversation," replied Mrs. Gleason,
+looking steadfastly in Mittie's face.
+
+"I am going to bed," said she, with an unsuppressed yawn, "you had
+better take a more fitting hour."
+
+"I shall not detain you long," replied her step-mother, "a few words can
+comprehend all I have to utter. This night is the anniversary of the
+one which brought us under the same roof. I then made a vow to myself
+that for one year I would labor with a bigot's zeal and a martyr's
+enthusiasm, to earn the love and entitle myself to the good opinion of
+my husband's daughter. I made a vow of self-abnegation, which no Hindoo
+devotee ever more religiously kept. I had been told that you were cold
+hearted and selfish; but I said love is invincible and must prevail;
+youth is susceptible and cannot resist the impressions of gratitude. I
+said this, Mittie, one year ago, in faith and hope and self-reliance. I
+have now come to tell you that my vow is fulfilled. I have done all that
+is due to you, nay, more, far more. It remains for me to fulfill my
+duties to myself. If I cannot make you _love_ me, I will not allow you
+to _despise_ me."
+
+The bold, bright eye of Mittie actually sunk before the calm, rebuking
+glance, which gave emphasis to every cool, deliberate word. Here was the
+woman she had dared to treat with disdain, as undeserving her respect,
+as the usurper of a place to which she had no right, whom she had
+predetermined to _hate_ because she was her _step-mother_, and whom she
+continued to dislike because she had predetermined to do so, all at once
+assuming an attitude of commanding self-respect, and asserting her own
+claims with irresistible dignity and truth. Taken completely by
+surprise, her usual fluency of language forsook her, and she sat one
+moment confounded and abashed. _Her claims?_ it was the first time the
+idea of her step-mother having any legitimate claims on her, had assumed
+the appearance of reality. Something glanced into her mind,
+foreshadowing the truth that after all she was more dependent on her
+father's wife, than her father's wife on her. It was like the flashing
+of lamplight on the picture-frames and golden flower leaves on the
+table, at which they both were seated.
+
+"I have been alone the whole evening," continued Mrs. Gleason, in a
+still calmer, more decided tone, "preparing myself for this interview;
+for the time for a full understanding is come. All the sacrifices I have
+made during the past year were for your father's peace and your own
+good. To him I have never complained, nor ever shall I; but I should
+esteem myself unworthy to be his wife, if I willingly submitted longer
+to the yoke of humiliation. I tell thee truly, Mittie, when I say, I
+care not for your love, for which I have so long striven in vain. You do
+not love your own family, and why should I expect to inspire what they,
+father, brother and sister have never kindled in your breast? I care not
+for your love, but I _will_ have your respect. I defy you from this
+moment ever to treat me with insolence. I defy you henceforth, ever by
+word, look or thought, to associate me with the idea of _contempt_."
+
+Her eye flashed with long suppressed indignation, and her face reddened
+with the liberated stream of her emotions. Rising, and gathering up her
+hair, which was sweeping back from her forehead, she took her lamp and
+turned to depart. Just as she reached the door she turned back and
+added, in a softer tone,
+
+"Though you will never more see me in the aspect of a seeker after
+courtesy and good will, I shall never reject any overtures for
+reconciliation. If the time should ever come, when you feel the need of
+counsel and sympathy, the necessity of a friend; if your heart ever
+awakens, Mittie, and utters the new-born cry of helplessness and pain,
+you will find me ready to listen and relieve. Good night."
+
+She passed from her presence, and Mittie felt as if she had been in a
+dream, so strange and unnatural was the impression left upon her mind.
+She was at first perfectly stunned with amazement, then consciousness,
+accompanied with some very disagreeable stinging sensations, returned.
+When a very calm, self-possessed person allows feeling or passion to
+gain the ascendency over them, they are invested for the moment with
+overmastering power.
+
+"I have never done justice to her intellect," thought she, recalling the
+words of her step-mother, with an involuntary feeling of admiration;
+"but I want not her love. When it is necessary to my happiness I will
+seek it. Love! she never cared any thing about me; she does not pretend
+that she did. She tried to win my good will from policy, not
+sensibility; and this is the origin of all the comforts and luxuries
+with which she has surrounded me. Why should I be grateful then? Thank
+Heaven! I am no hypocrite; I never dissembled, never professed what I do
+not feel. If every one were as honest and independent as I am, there
+would be very little of this vapid sentimentality, this love-breath,
+which comes and goes like a night mist, and leaves nothing behind it."
+
+The next morning Mittie could not help feeling some embarrassment when
+she met her step-mother at the breakfast-table, but the lady herself was
+not in the least disconcerted; she was polite and courteous, but calm
+and cold. There was a barrier around her which Mittie felt that she
+could not pass, and she was uncomfortable in the position in which she
+had placed herself.
+
+And thus time went on--thus the golden opportunities of youth fled.
+Helen was still at school; Louis at college. But when Louis graduated,
+he came home, accompanied by a classmate whose name was Bryant
+Clinton--and his coming was an event in that quiet neighborhood. When
+Louis announced to his father that he was going to bring with him a
+young friend and fellow collegian, Mr. Gleason was unprepared for the
+reception of the dashing and high bred young gentleman who appeared as
+his guest.
+
+Mittie happened to be standing on the rustic bridge, near the celebrated
+bleaching ground of Miss Thusa, when her brother and his friend arrived.
+She was no lover of nature, and there was nothing in the bland, dewy
+stillness of declining day to woo her abroad amid the glories of a
+summer's sunset. But from that springing arch, she could look up the
+high road and see the dust glimmering like particles of gold, telling
+that life had been busy there--and sometimes, as at the present moment,
+when something unusually magnificent presented itself to the eye, she
+surrendered herself to the pleasure of admiration. There had been heavy,
+dun, rolling clouds all the latter part of the day, and when the sun
+burst forth behind them, he came with the touch of Midas,
+instantaneously transmuting every thing into gold. The trunks of the
+trees were changed to the golden pillars of an antique temple, the
+foliage was all powdered with gold, here and there deepening into a
+bronze, and sweeping round those pillars in folds of gorgeous tapestry.
+The windows of the distant houses were all gleaming like molten gold;
+and every blade of grass was tipped with the same glittering fluid.
+Mittie had never beheld any thing so gloriously beautiful. She stood
+leaning against the light railing, unconscious that she herself was
+bathed in the same golden light--that it quivered in the dark waves of
+her hair, and gilt the roses of her glowing cheek. She did not know how
+bright and resplendent she looked, when two horsemen appeared in the
+high road, gathering around them in quivers the glittering arrows
+darting from the sky. As they rapidly approached, she recognized her
+brother, and knew that the young gentleman who accompanied him must be
+his friend, Bryant Clinton. The steed on which he was mounted was black
+as a raven, and the hair of the young man was long, black, and flowing
+as his horse's sable mane. As he came near, reining in the high mettled
+animal, while his locks blew back in the breeze, enriched with the same
+golden lustre with which every thing was shining, Mittie suddenly
+remembered Miss Thusa's legend of the black horseman, with the jetty
+hair entwined in the maiden's bleeding heart. Strange, that it should
+come back to her so vividly and painfully.
+
+Louis recognized his sister, standing on the airy arch of the bridge, and
+rode directly to the garden gate. Clinton did the same, but instead of
+darting through the gate, as Louis did, he only dismounted, lifted his
+hat gracefully from his head, and bowed with lowly deference--then
+throwing his arm over the saddle bow, he waited till the greeting was
+over. Mittie was not the favorite sister of Louis, for she had repelled
+him as she had all others by her cold and haughty self-concentration--but
+though he did not _love_ her as he did Helen, she was his sister, she
+appeared to him the personification of home, of womanhood, and his pride
+was gratified by the full blown flower and splendor of her beauty. She
+had gained much in height since he had last seen her; her hair, which was
+then left waving in the wild freedom of childhood, was now gathered into
+bands, and twisted behind, showing the classic contour of her head and
+neck. Louis had never thought before whether Mittie was handsome or not.
+She had not seemed so to him. He had never spoken of her as such to his
+friend. Helen, sweet Helen, was the burden of his speech, the one lovely
+sister of his heart. The idea of being proud of Mittie never occurred to
+him, but now she flashed upon him like a new revelation, in the glow and
+freshness and power of her just developed womanly charms. He was glad he
+had found her in that picturesque spot, graceful attitude, and partaking
+largely and richly of the glorification of nature. He was glad that
+Bryant Clinton, the greatest connoisseur in female beauty he had ever
+seen, should meet her for the first time under circumstances of peculiar
+personal advantage. He thought, too, there was more than her wonted
+cordiality in her greeting, and that her cheek grew warm under his
+hearty, brotherly kiss.
+
+"Why, Mittie," cried he, "I hardly knew you, you have grown so handsome
+and stately. I never saw any one so altered in my life--a perfect Juno.
+I want to introduce my friend to you--a noble hearted, generous,
+princely spirited fellow. A true Virginian, rather reckless with regard
+to expenditure, perhaps, but extravagance is a kingly fault--I like it.
+He is a passionate admirer of beauty, too, Mittie, and his manners are
+perfectly irresistible. I shall be proud if he admires you, for I assure
+you his admiration is a compliment of which any maiden may be proud."
+
+While he was speaking, Clinton followed the beckoning motion of his
+hand, and approached the bridge. It is impossible to describe the ease
+and grace of his motions, or the wild charm imparted to his countenance
+by the long, dark, shining, back-flowing locks, that softened their
+haughty outline. His hair, eye-lashes and eye-brows were of deep, raven
+black, but his eyes were a dark blue, a union singularly striking, and
+productive of wonderful expression. As he came nearer and nearer, and
+Mittie felt those dark blue, black shaded eyes riveted on her face, with
+a look of unmistakable admiration, she remembered the words of her
+brother, and the consciousness of beauty, for the first time, gave her a
+sensation of pride and pleasure. She was too proud to be vain--and what
+cared she for gifts, destined, like pearls, to be cast before an
+unvaluing herd? The young doctor was the only young man whose admiration
+she had ever thought worthy to secure, and having met from him only cold
+politeness, she had lately felt for him only bitterness and dislike.
+Living as she had done in a kind of cold abstraction, enjoying only the
+pleasures of intellect, in all the sufficiency of self, it was a matter
+of indifference to her what people thought of her. She felt so
+infinitely above them, looking down like the æronaut, from a colder,
+more rarefied atmosphere, upon objects lessened to meanness by her own
+elevation.
+
+She could never look down on such a being as Bryant Clinton. Her first
+thought was--"Will he dare to look down on me?" There was so much pride,
+tempered by courtesy, such an air of lofty breeding, softened by grace,
+so much intellectual power and sleeping passion in his face, that she
+felt the contact of a strong, controlling spirit, a will to which her
+own might be constrained to bow.
+
+They walked to the house together, while Louis gave directions about the
+horses, and he entered into conversation at once so easily and
+gracefully, that Mittie threw off the slight embarrassment that
+oppressed her, and answered him in the same light spirited tone. She was
+astonished at herself, for she was usually reserved with strangers, and
+her thoughts seldom effervesced in brilliant sallies or sparkling
+repartees. But Clinton carried about with him the wand of an enchanter,
+and every thing he touched, sparkled and shone with newly awakened or
+reflected brightness. Every one has felt the influence of that
+indescribable fascination of manner which some individuals possess, and
+which has the effect of electricity or magnetism. Something that
+captivates, even against the will, and keeps one enthralled, in spite of
+the struggling of pride, and the shame attendant on submission. One of
+these fascinating, electric, magnetic beings was Clinton. Louis had long
+been one of his captives, but _he_ was such a gay, frank, confiding,
+porous hearted being, it was not strange, but that he should break
+through the triple bars of coldness, haughtiness and reserve, which
+Mittie had built around her, so high no mortal had scaled them--this was
+more than strange--it was miraculous.
+
+When Mittie retired that night, instead of preparing for sleep, she sat
+down in the window, and tried to analyze the charm which drew her
+towards this stranger, without any volition of her own. She could not do
+it--it was intangible, evasive and subtle. The effect of his presence
+was like the sun-burst on the landscape, the moment of his arrival. The
+dark places of her soul seemed suddenly illumined; the massy columns of
+her intellect turned like the tree trunks, into pillars of gold and
+light; gilded foliage, in new born leaflets, played about the branches.
+She looked up into the heavens, and thought they had never bent in such
+grandeur and splendor over her, nor the solemn poetry of night ever
+addressed her in such deep, earnest language. All her senses appeared
+to have acquired an acuteness, an exquisiteness that made them
+susceptible almost to pain. The stars dazzled her like sunbeams, and
+those low, murmuring, monotonous sounds, the muffled beatings of the
+heart of night, rung loudly and distinctly on her ear. Alarmed at the
+strange excitement of her nerves, she rose and looked round the
+apartment which her step-mother's hand had adorned, and _ingratitude_
+seemed written in large, dark characters on the soft, grayish colored
+walls. Why had she never seen this writing before? Why had the debt she
+owed this long suffering and now alienated benefactress, never before
+been acknowledged before the tribunal of conscience? Because her heart
+was awakening out of a life-long sleep, and the light of a new creation
+was beaming around her.
+
+She took the lamp, and placing it in front of the mirror, gazed
+deliberately on her person.
+
+"Am I handsome?" she mentally asked, taking out her comb, whose pressure
+seemed intolerable, and suffering the dark redundance of her hair to
+flow, unrestrained, around her. "Louis says that I am, and methinks this
+mirror reflects a glorious image. Surely I am changed, or I have never
+really looked on myself before."
+
+Yes! she was changed. The light within the cold, alabaster vase was
+kindled, giving a life and a glow to what was before merely symmetrical
+and classic. There was a color coming and going in her cheek, a warm
+lustre coming and going in her eye, and she could not tell whence it
+came, nor whither it went.
+
+From this evening a new era in her life commenced.
+
+Days and weeks glided by, and Clinton still remained the guest of Louis.
+He sometimes spoke of going home, but Louis said--"not yet"--and the
+sudden paleness of Mittie's cheek spoke volumes. During all this time,
+they had walked, and rode, and talked together, and the enchantment had
+become stronger and more pervading Mr. Gleason sometimes thought he
+ought not to allow so close an intimacy between his daughter and a young
+man of whose private character he knew so little, but when he reflected
+how soon he was to depart to his distant home, probably never to return,
+there seemed little danger to be apprehended from his short sojourn with
+them. Then Mittie, though she might be susceptible of admiration for
+his splendid qualities, and though her vanity might be gratified by his
+apparent devotion--_Mittie had no heart_. If it were Helen, it would be
+a very different thing, but Mittie was incapable of love, uninflammable
+as asbestos, and cold as marble.
+
+Mrs. Gleason, with the quicker perception of woman, penetrated deeper
+than her husband, and saw that passions were aroused in that hitherto
+insensible heart which, if opposed, might be terrible in their power.
+Since her conversation with Mittie, where she yielded up all attempt at
+maternal influence, and like "Ephraim joined to idols, _let her alone_,"
+she had never uttered a word of counsel or rebuke. She had been coldly,
+distantly courteous, and as she had prophesied, met with at least the
+semblance of respect. It was more than the semblance, it was the
+reality. Mittie disdained dissimulation, and from the moment her
+step-mother asserted her own dignity, she felt it. Mrs Gleason would
+have lifted up her warning voice, but she knew it would be disregarded,
+and moreover, she had pledged herself to neutrality, unless admonition
+or counsel were asked.
+
+"Let us go in and see Miss Thusa," said Louis, as they were returning
+one evening from a long walk in the woods. "I must show Clinton all the
+lions in the neighborhood, and Miss Thusa is the queen of the
+menagerie."
+
+"It is too late, brother," cried Mittie, well knowing that she was no
+favorite of Miss Thusa, who might recall some of the incidents of her
+childhood, which she now wished buried in oblivion.
+
+"Just the hour to make a fashionable call," said Clinton. "I should like
+to see this belle of the wild woods."
+
+"Oh! she is very old and very ugly," exclaimed Mittie, "and I assure
+you, will give you a very uncourteous reception."
+
+"Youth and beauty and courtesy will only appear more lovely by force of
+contrast," said Clinton, offering her his hand to assist her over the
+stile, with a glance of irresistible persuasion.
+
+Mittie was constrained to yield, but an anxious flush rose to her cheek
+for the result of this dreaded interview. She had not visited Miss Thusa
+since her return from school, for she had no pleasing associations
+connected with her to draw her to her presence. Since her memorable
+journey with her wheel, Miss Thusa had taken possession of her former
+abode, and no entreaties could induce her to resume her wandering life.
+She never revealed the mystery of the advertisement, or the result of
+her journey, but a female Ixion, bound to the wheel, spun away her
+solitary hours, and nursed her own peculiar, solemn traits of character.
+
+The house looked very much like a hermitage, with its low, slanting,
+wigwam roof, and dark stone walls, planted in the midst of underbrush,
+through which no visible path was seen. There was no gate, but a stile,
+made of massy logs, piled in the form of steps, which were beautifully
+carpeted with moss. A well, whose long sweep was also wreathed with
+moss, was just visible above the long, rank grass, with its old oaken
+bucket swinging in the air.
+
+"What a superb old hermitage!" exclaimed Clinton, as they approached the
+door. "I feel perfectly sublime already. If the lion queen is worthy of
+her lair, I would make a pilgrimage to visit her."
+
+"Now, pray, brother," said Mittie, determined to make as short a stay as
+possible, "don't ask her to tell any of her horrible stories. I am
+sure," she added, turning to Clinton, "you would find them exceedingly
+wearisome."
+
+"They are the most interesting things in the world," said Louis, with
+provoking enthusiasm, as opening the door, he bowed his sister in--then
+taking Clinton's arm, ushered him into the presence of the stately
+spinster.
+
+Miss Thusa did not rise, but suffering her foot to pause on the treadle,
+she pushed her spectacles to the top of her head, and looked round upon
+her unexpected visitors. Mittie, who felt that the dark shaded eye of
+Clinton was upon her, accosted her with unwonted politeness, but it was
+evident the stern hostess returned her greeting with coldness and
+repulsion. Her features relaxed, when Louis, cordially grasping her
+hand, expressed his delight at seeing her looking so like the Miss Thusa
+of his early boyhood. Perceiving the aristocratic stranger, she
+acknowledged his graceful, respectful bow, by rising, and her tall
+figure towered like a column of gray marble in the centre of the low
+apartment.
+
+"And who is Mr. Bryant Clinton?" said she, scanning him with her eye of
+prophecy, "that he should visit the cabin of a poor, old, lonely woman
+like me? I didn't expect such an honor. But I suppose he came for the
+sake of the company he brought--not what he could find here."
+
+"We brought him, Miss Thusa," said Louis; "we want him to become
+acquainted with all our friends, and you know we would not forget you."
+
+"We!" repeated Miss Thusa, looking sternly at Mittie, "don't say _we_.
+It is the first time Mittie ever set foot in my poor cabin, and I know
+she didn't come now of her own good will. But never mind--sit down,"
+added she, drawing forward a wooden settee, equivalent to three or four
+chairs, and giving it a sweep with her handkerchief. "It is not often I
+have such fine company as this to accommodate."
+
+"Or you would have a velvet sofa for us to sit down upon," cried Louis,
+laughing, while he occupied with the others the wooden seat; "but I like
+this better, with its lofty back and broad, substantial frame. Every
+thing around you is in keeping, Miss Thusa, and looks antique and
+majestic; the walls of gray stone, the old, moss-covered well-sweep, the
+dear old wheel, your gray colored dress, always the same, yet always
+looking nice and new. I declare, Miss Thusa, I am tempted to turn hermit
+myself, and come and live with you, if you would let me. I am beginning
+to be tired of the world."
+
+He laughed gayly, but a shade passed over his countenance, darkening its
+sunshine.
+
+"And I am just beginning to be awake to its charms," said Clinton, "just
+beginning to _live_. I would not now forsake the world; but if
+disappointment and sorrow be my lot, I must plead with Miss Thusa to
+receive me into her hermitage, and teach me her admirable philosophy."
+
+Though he addressed Miss Thusa, his glances played lambently on Mittie's
+face, and told her the meaning of his words.
+
+"Pshaw!" exclaimed Miss Thusa, "don't try to make a fool of me, young
+gentleman. Louis, Master Louis, Mr. Gleason--what shall I call you now,
+since you're grown so tall, and seem so much farther off than you used
+to be."
+
+"Call me Louis--nothing but Louis. I cannot bear the thought of being
+_Mistered_, and put off at a distance. Oh, there is nothing so sweet as
+the name a mother's angel lips first breathed into our ears."
+
+"I'm glad you have not forgotten your mother, Louis," said Miss Thusa,
+her countenance softening into an expression of profound sensibility;
+"she was a woman to be remembered for a life-time; though weak in body,
+she was a powerful woman for all that. When she died, I lost the best
+friend I ever had in the world, and I shall love you and Helen as long
+as I live, for her sake, as well as your own. I won't be unjust to
+anybody. _You've_ always been a good, respectful boy; and as for Helen,
+Heaven bless the child! she wasn't made for this world nor anybody in
+it. I never see a young flower, or a tender green leaf, but I think of
+her, and when they fade away, or are bitten and shrivelled by the frost,
+I think of her, too, and it makes me melancholy. When is the dear child
+coming home?"
+
+Before the conclusion of this speech, Mittie had risen and turned her
+burning cheek towards the window. She felt as if a curse were resting
+upon her, to be thus excluded from all participation in Miss Thusa's
+blessing, in the presence of Bryant Clinton. Yes, at that moment she
+felt the value of Miss Thusa's good opinion--the despised and contemned
+Miss Thusa. The praises of Helen sounded as so many horrible discords in
+her ears, and when she heard Louis reply that "Helen would return soon,
+very soon, with that divine little blind Alice," she wished that years
+on years might intervene before that period arrived, for might she not
+supplant her in the heart of Clinton, as she had in every other?
+
+While she thus stood, playing with a hop-vine that climbed a tall pole
+by the window, and shaded it with its healthy, luxuriant leaves, Clinton
+manifested the greatest interest in Miss Thusa's wheel, and the
+manufacture of her thread. He praised the beauty of its texture, the
+fineness and evenness of its fibres.
+
+"I admire this wheel," said he, "it has such a venerable, antique
+appearance. Its massy frame and brazen hoops, its grooves and swelling
+lines are a real study for the architect."
+
+"Why, I never saw those brazen rings before," exclaimed Louis, starting
+up and joining Clinton, in his study of the instrument. "When did you
+have them put on, Miss Thusa, and what is their use?"
+
+"I had them made when I took that long journey," replied Miss Thusa,
+pushing back the wheel with an air of vexation. "It got battered and
+bruised, and needed something to strengthen it. Those saucy stage
+drivers made nothing of tossing it from the top of the stage right on
+the pavement, but the same man never dared to do it but once."
+
+"This must be made of lignum-vitæ," said Clinton, "it is so very heavy.
+Such must have been the instrument that Hercules used, when he bowed his
+giant strength to the distaff, to gratify a beautiful woman's whim."
+
+"Well, I can't see what there is in an old wheel to attract a young
+gentleman like you, so!" exclaimed Miss Thusa, interposing her tall
+figure between it and the collegian. "I don't want Hercules, or any sort
+of man, to spin at my distaff, I can tell you. It's woman's work, and
+it's a shame for a man to interfere with it. No, no! it is better for
+you to ride about the country with your black horse and gold-colored
+fringes, turning the heads of silly girls and gaping children, than to
+meddle with an old woman and her wheel."
+
+"Why, Miss Thusa, what makes you so angry?" cried Louis, astonished at
+the excitement of her manner. "I never knew you impolite before."
+
+"I apologise for my own rudeness," said Clinton, with inexpressible
+grace and ease. "I was really interested in the subject, and forgot that
+I might be intrusive. I respect every lady's rights too much to infringe
+upon them."
+
+"I don't mean to be rude," replied Miss Thusa, giving her glasses a
+downward jerk, "but I've lived so much by myself, that I don't know any
+thing about the soft, palavering ways of the world. I say again, I don't
+want to be rude, and I'm not ashamed to ask pardon if I am so; but I
+know this fine young gentleman cares no more for me, nor my wheel, than
+the man in the moon, and I don't like to have any one try to pass off
+the show for the reality."
+
+She fixed her large, gray eye so steadfastly on Clinton, that his cheek
+flushed with the hue of resentful sensibility, and Louis thinking Miss
+Thusa in a singularly repulsive mood, thought it better to depart.
+
+"If it were not so late," said he, approaching the door, "I would ask
+you for one of your interesting legends, Miss Thusa, but by the long
+shadow of the well-sweep on the grass, the sun must be almost down. Why
+do you never come to see us now? My mother would give you a cordial
+welcome."
+
+"That's right. I love to hear you call her mother, Louis. She is worthy
+of the name. She is a lady, a noble hearted lady, that honored the
+family by coming into it; and they who wouldn't own her, disgrace
+themselves, not her. Go among the poor, _if_ you want to know her worth.
+Hear _them_ talk--but as for my stories, I never can tell them, if there
+is a scoffing tongue, and an unbelieving ear close by. I cannot feel my
+_gift_. I cannot glorify the Lord who gave it. When Helen comes, bring
+her to me, for I've something to tell her that I mustn't carry to my
+grave. The blind child, too, I should like to see her again. I would
+give one of my eyes now, to put sight into hers--both of them, I might
+say, for I shan't use them much longer."
+
+"Why, Miss Thusa, you are a _powerful_ woman yet," said Louis, measuring
+her erect and commanding figure, with an upward glance. "I shouldn't
+wonder if you lived to preside at all our funerals. I don't think you
+ever can grow weak and infirm."
+
+Miss Thusa shook her head, and slipped up the sleeve of her left arm,
+showing the shrunken flesh and shrivelled skin.
+
+"There's weakness and infirmity coming on," said she, "but I don't mind
+it. This world isn't such a paradise, at the best, that one would want
+to stay in it forever. And there's one comfort, I shall leave nobody
+behind to bewail me when I'm gone."
+
+"Ah! Miss Thusa, how unjust you are. _I_ shall bewail you; and, as for
+Helen, I do believe the sweet, tender-hearted soul would cry her eyes
+out. Even the lovely, blind Alice would weep for your loss. And
+Mittie--but it seems to me you are not quite kind to Mittie. I should
+think you had too much magnanimity to remember the idle pranks of
+childhood against any one. Why, see what a handsome, glorious looking
+girl she is now."
+
+Mittie turned haughtily away, and stepped out on the mossy door-stone.
+All her early scorn and hatred of Miss Thusa revived with even added
+force. Clinton followed her, but lingered on the threshold for Louis,
+whose hand the ancient sibyl grasped with a cordial farewell pressure.
+
+"Mittie and I never were friends, and never can be," said she, "but I
+wish her no harm. I wish her better luck than I think is in her path
+now. As for yourself, if you should get into trouble, and not want to
+vex those that are kin, you can come to me, and if you don't despise my
+counsel and assistance, perhaps it may do you good. I have a legend that
+I've been storing up for your ears, too, and one of these days I should
+like to tell it to you. But," lowering her voice to a whisper, "leave
+that long-haired, smooth-tongued gentleman behind."
+
+"Was I not right," said Mittie, when they had passed the stile, and
+could no longer discern the ancestral figure of Miss Thusa in the door
+of her lonely dwelling, "in saying that she is a very rude, disagreeable
+person? She is so vindictive, too. She never could forgive me, because
+when a little child I cared not to listen to her terrible tales of
+ghosts and monsters. Helen believed every word she uttered, till she
+became the most superstitious, fearful creature in the world."
+
+"You should add, the sweetest, dearest, best," interrupted Louis,
+"unless we except the angelic blind maiden."
+
+"I should think if you had any affection for me, Louis," said Mittie,
+turning pale, as his praises of Helen fell on Clinton's ear, "you would
+resent the rudeness and impertinence to which you have just exposed me.
+What must your friend think of me? Was it to lower me in his opinion
+that you carried him to her hovel, and drew forth her spiteful and
+bitter remarks?"
+
+"Do you think it possible that _she_ could alter my opinion of _you_?"
+said Clinton, in a low, earnest tone. "If any thing could have exalted
+it, it would be the dignity and forbearance with which you bore her
+insinuations, and defeated her malice."
+
+"I am sorry, Mittie," cried Louis, touched by her paleness and emotion,
+and attributing it entirely to wounded feeling, "I am very sorry that I
+have been the indirect cause of giving you pain. It was certainly
+unintentional. Miss Thusa was in rather a savage mood this evening, I
+must acknowledge; but she is not malicious, Clinton. With all her
+eccentricities, she has some sterling virtues. If you could only see
+her inspired, and hear one of her _powerful_ tales!"
+
+"If you ever induce him to go there a second time!" exclaimed Mittie,
+withdrawing herself from the arm with which he had encircled her waist,
+and giving him a glance from her dark, bright eyes, that might have
+scorched him, it was so intensely, dazzlingly angry.
+
+"Believe me," said Clinton, "no inducement could tempt me again to a
+place associated with painful remembrances in your mind."
+
+He had not seen the glance, for he was walking on the other side, and
+when she turned towards him, in answer to his soothing remark, the
+starry moon of night is not more darkly beautiful or resplendent than
+her face.
+
+So he told her when Louis left them at the gate leading to their
+dwelling, and so he told her again when they were walking alone together
+in the star-bright night.
+
+"Why do they talk to me of Helen?" said he, and his voice stole through
+the stilly air as gently as the falling dew. "What can she be, in
+comparison with you? Little did I think Louis had another sister so
+transcendent, when I saw you standing on the rustic bridge, the most
+radiant vision that ever beamed on the eye of mortal. You remember that
+evening. All the sunbeams of Heaven gathered around _you_, the focus of
+the golden firmament."
+
+"Louis loves me not as he does Helen," replied Mittie, her heart
+bounding with rapture at his glowing praises, "no one does. Even you,
+who now profess to love me beyond all created beings, if Helen came,
+might be lured by _her_ attractions to forget all you have been
+breathing into my ears."
+
+"I confess I should like to see one whose attractions _you_ can fear.
+She must be superlatively lovely."
+
+"She is not beautiful nor lovely, Clinton. No one ever called her so.
+Fear! I never knew the sensation of fear. It is not fear that she could
+inspire, but a stronger, deeper passion."
+
+He felt the arm tremble that was closely locked in his, and he could see
+her lip curl like a rose-leaf fluttering in the breeze.
+
+"Speak, Mittie, and tell me what you mean. I can think of but one
+passion now, and that the strongest and deepest that ever ruled the
+heart of man."
+
+"I cannot describe my meaning," replied Mittie, pausing under a tree
+that shaded their path, and leaning against its trunk; "but I can feel
+it. Till you came, I knew not what feeling was; I read of it in books.
+It was the theme of many a fluent tongue, but all was cold and passive
+_here_," said she, pressing her hand on the throbbing heart that now
+ached with the intensity of its emotion. "Everybody said I had no heart,
+and I believed them. You first taught me that there was a vital spark
+burning within it, and blew upon it with a breath of flame. I tell you,
+Clinton, you had better tamper with the lightning's chain than the
+passions of this suddenly awakened heart. I tell you I am a dangerous
+being. There is a power within me that makes me tremble with its
+consciousness. I am a young girl, with no experience. I know nothing of
+the blandishments of art, and if I did I would scorn to exercise them.
+You have told me a thousand times that you loved me and I have believed
+you. I would willingly die a thousand times for the rapture of hearing
+it once; but if I thought the being lived who could supplant me--if I
+thought you could ever prove false to me--"
+
+Her eye flashed and her cheek glowed in the night-beams that, as Clinton
+said, made her their focus, so brightly were they reflected from her
+face. What Clinton said, it is unnecessary to repeat, for the language
+of passion is commonplace, unless it flows from lips as fresh and
+unworldly and impulsive as Mittie's.
+
+"Let me put a mark on this tree," she said, stooping down and picking up
+a sharp fragment of rock at its base. "If you ever forget what you have
+said to me this night, I will lead you to this spot, and show you the
+wounded bark--"
+
+She began to carve her own initials, but he insisted upon substituting
+his penknife and assisting her in the task, to which she consented. As
+they stood side by side, he guiding her hand, and his long, soft locks
+playing against her cheek, or mingling with her own, she surrendered
+herself to a feeling of unalloyed happiness, when all at once Miss
+Thusa's legend of the Black Knight, with the dark, far-flowing hair,
+and the maiden with the bleeding heart, came to her remembrance, and she
+involuntarily shuddered.
+
+"Why am I ever recalling that wild legend?" thought she. "I am getting
+to be as weak and superstitious as Helen. Why, when it seems to me that
+the wing of an angel is fluttering against my cheek, should I remember
+that demon-sprite?"
+
+Underneath her initials he carved his own, in larger, bolder characters.
+
+"Would you believe it," said she, in a light mocking tone, "that I felt
+every stroke of your knife on that bark? Oh, you do not know how deep
+you cut! It seems that my life is infused into that tree, and that it is
+henceforth a part of myself."
+
+"Strange, romantic girl that you are! Supposing the lightning should
+strike it, think you that you would feel the shaft?"
+
+"Yes, if it shattered the tablet that bears those united names. But the
+lightning does not often make a channel in the surface of the silver
+barked beech. There are loftier trees around. The stately oak and
+branching elm will be more likely to win the fiery crown of electricity
+than this."
+
+Mittie clasped her arms around the tree, and laid her cheek against the
+ciphers. The next moment she flitted away, ashamed of her enthusiasm, to
+hide her blushes and agitation in the solitude of her own chamber.
+
+The next morning she found a wreath of roses round the tablet, and the
+next, and the next. So day after day the passion of her heart was fed by
+love-gifts offered at that shrine, where, by the silver starlight, they
+had met, and ONE at least had worshiped.
+
+
+
+
+PART THIRD.
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+    ----A countenance in which did meet
+    Sweet records,--promises as sweet--
+    A creature not too bright or good
+    For human nature's daily food;
+    For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
+    Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears and smiles.
+
+    _Wordsworth._
+
+
+And now we have arrived at the era, to which we have looked forward with
+eager anticipation, the return of Helen and Alice, the period when the
+severed links of the household chain were again united, when the folded
+bud of childhood began to unclose its spotless leaves, and expand in the
+solar rays of love and passion.
+
+We have said but little lately of the young doctor, not that we have
+forgotten him, but he had so little fellowship with the characters of
+our last chapter, that we forbore to introduce him in the same group. He
+did feel a strong interest in Louis, but the young collegian was so
+fascinated by his new friend, that he unconsciously slighted him whom he
+had once looked upon as a mentor and an elder brother. Mittie, the
+handsome, brilliant, haughty, but now impassioned girl, was as little to
+his taste as Mittie, the cold, selfish and repulsive child. Clinton, the
+accomplished courtier, the dashing equestrian, the graceful
+spendthrift--the apparently resistless Clinton had no attraction for
+him. He sometimes wondered if his little, simple-hearted pupil Helen
+would be carried away by the same magnetic influence, and longed to see
+her character exposed to a test so powerful and dangerous.
+
+Mr. Gleason went for the children, as he continued to call them, and
+when the time for his arrival drew near, there was more than the usual
+excitement on such occasions. Mittie could never think of her sister's
+coming without a fluctuating cheek and a throbbing heart. Mrs. Gleason
+wondered at this sensibility, unknowing its latent source, and rejoiced
+that all her affections seemed blooming in the fervid atmosphere that
+now surrounded her. Perhaps even she might yet be loved. But it was to
+Helen the heart of the step-mother went forth, whom she remembered as so
+gentle, so timid, so grateful and endearing. Would she return the same
+sweet child of nature, unspoiled by contact with other grosser elements?
+
+Clinton felt an eager curiosity to see the sister of Mittie, for whom
+she cherished such precocious jealousy, yet who, according to her own
+description, was neither beautiful nor lovely. Louis was all impatience,
+not only to see his favorite Helen, but the lovely blind girl, who had
+made such an impression on his young imagination. It is true her image
+had faded in the sultry, worldly atmosphere to which he had been
+exposed; but as he thought of the blue, sightless orbs, so beautiful yet
+soulless, the desire to loosen the fillet of darkness which the hand of
+God had bound around her brow, and to pour upon her awakening vision the
+noontide glories of creation, rekindled in his bosom.
+
+For many days Mrs. Gleason had filled the vases with fresh flowers, for
+she remembered how Helen delighted in their beauty, and Alice in their
+fragrance. There was a room prepared for Helen and Alice, while the
+latter remained her guest, and Mittie resolved that if possible, she
+would exclude her permanently from the chamber which Mrs. Gleason had so
+carefully furnished for both. She could not bear the idea of such close
+companionship with any one. She wanted to indulge in solitude her wild,
+passionate dreams, her secret, deep, incommunicable thoughts.
+
+At length the travelers arrived; weary, dusty and exhausted from
+sleepless nights, and hurried, rapid days. No magnificent sun-burst
+glorified their coming. It was a dull, grayish, dingy day, such as often
+comes, the herald of approaching autumn. Mittie could not help
+rejoicing, for she knew the power of first impressions. She knew it by
+the raptures which Clinton always expressed when he alluded to her
+first appearance on the rustic bridge, as the youthful goddess of the
+blooming season. She knew it by her own experience, when she first
+beheld Clinton in all the witchery of his noble horsemanship.
+
+Helen was unfortunately made very sick by traveling, _sea-sick_, and
+when she reached home she was exactly in that state of passive endurance
+which would have caused her to lie under the carriage wheels
+unresistingly had she been placed perchance in that position. The
+weather was close and sultry, and the dust gathered on the folds of her
+riding-dross added to the warmth and discomfort of her appearance. Her
+father carried her in his arms into the house, her head reclining
+languidly on his shoulder, her cheeks white as her muslin collar. Mittie
+caught a glimpse of Clinton's countenance as he stood in the
+back-ground, and read with exultation an expression of blank
+disappointment. After gazing fixedly at Helen, he turned towards Mittie,
+and his glance said as plainly as words could speak--
+
+"You beautiful and radiant creature, can you fear the influence of such
+a little, spiritless, sickly dowdy as this?"
+
+Relieved of the most intolerable apprehensions, her greeting of Helen
+was affectionate beyond the most sanguine hopes of the latter. She took
+off her bonnet with assiduous kindness, (though Helen would have
+preferred wearing it to her room, to displaying her disordered hair and
+dusty raiment,) leaving to Mrs. Gleason the task of ministering to the
+lovely blind girl.
+
+"Where's brother? I do not hear his step," said Alice, looking round as
+earnestly as if she expected to see his advancing figure.
+
+"He has just been called away," said Louis, "or he would be here to
+greet you. My poor little Helen, you do indeed look dreadfully used up.
+You were never made for a traveler. Why Alice's roses are scarcely
+wilted."
+
+"Nothing but fatigue and a little sea-sickness," cried her father, "a
+good night's sleep is all she needs. You will see a very different
+looking girl to-morrow, I assure you."
+
+"Better, far better as she is," thought Mittie, as she assisted the
+young travelers up stairs.
+
+Ill and weary as she was, Helen could not help noticing the astonishing
+improvement in Mittie's appearance, the life, the glow, the sunlight of
+her countenance. She gazed upon her with admiration and delight.
+
+"How handsome you have grown, Mittie," said she, "and I doubt not as
+good as you are handsome. And you look so much happier than you used to
+do. Oh! I do hope we shall love each other as sisters ought to do. It is
+so sweet to have a sister to love."
+
+The exchange of her warm, traveling dress for a loose, light undress,
+gave inexpressible relief to Helen, who, reclining on her _own
+delightful bed_, began to feel a soft, living glow stealing over the
+pallor of her cheek.
+
+"Shall I comb and brush your hair for you?" asked Mittie, sitting down
+by the side of the bed, and gathering together the tangled tresses of
+hazel brown, that looked dim in contrast with her own shining raven
+hair.
+
+"Thank you," said Helen, pressing her hand gratefully in both hers. "You
+are so kind. Only smooth Alice's first. If her brother comes, she will
+want to see him immediately--and you don't know what a pleasure it is to
+arrange her golden ringlets."
+
+"Don't _you_ want to see the young doctor, too, Helen?"
+
+"To be sure I do," replied Helen, with a brightening color, "more than
+any one else in the world, I believe. But do they call him the young
+doctor, yet?"
+
+"Yes--and will till he is as old as Methuselah, I expect," replied
+Mittie, laughing.
+
+"Brother is not more than five or six and twenty, now," cried Alice,
+with emphasis.
+
+"Or seven," added Mittie. "Oh! he is sufficiently youthful, I dare say,
+but it is amusing to see how that name is fastened upon him. It is
+seldom we hear Doctor Hazleton mentioned. He does not look a day older
+than when he prescribed for you, Helen, in your yellow flannel
+night-gown. He had a look of precocious wisdom then, which becomes him
+better now."
+
+Mittie began to think Helen very stupid, to say nothing of the dazzling
+Clinton, to whom she had taken particular pains to introduce her, when
+she suddenly asked her, "How long that very handsome young gentleman
+was going to remain?"
+
+"You think him handsome, then," cried Mittie, making a veil of the
+flaxen ringlets of Alice, so that Helen could not see the high color
+that suffused her face.
+
+"I think he is the handsomest person I ever saw," replied Helen, just as
+if she were speaking of a beautiful picture or statue; "and yet there is
+something, I cannot tell what, that I do not exactly like about him."
+
+"You are fastidious," said Mittie, coldly, and the sudden gleam of her
+eye reminding her of the Mittie of other days, Helen closed her weary
+lips.
+
+Tho next morning, she sprang from her bed light and early as the
+sky-lark. All traces of languor, indisposition and fatigue had vanished
+in the deep, tranquil, refreshing slumbers of the night. She awoke with
+the joyous consciousness of being at home beneath her father's roof. She
+was not a boarder, subject to a thousand restraints, necessary but
+irksome. She was not compelled any more to fashion her movements to the
+ringing of a bell, nor walk according to the square and compass. She was
+free. She could wander in the garden without asking permission. She
+could _run_ too, without incurring the imputation of rudeness and
+impropriety. The gyves and manacles of authority had fallen from her
+bounding limbs, and the joyous and emancipated school-girl sang in the
+gladness and glee of her heart.
+
+Alice still slept--the door of Mittie's chamber was closed, and every
+thing was silent in the household, when she flew down stairs, rather
+than walked, and went forth into the dewy morn. The sun was not yet
+risen, but there was a deepening splendor of saffron and crimson above
+the horizon, fit tapestry for the pavilion of a God. The air was so
+fresh and balmy, it felt so young and inspiring, Helen could hardly
+imagine herself more than five years old. Every thing carried her back
+to the earliest recollections of childhood. There were the swallows
+flying in and out of their little gothic windows under the beetling
+barn-eaves; and there were the martins, morning gossips from time
+immemorial, chattering at the doors of their white pagodas, with their
+bright red roofs and black thresholds. The old England robin, with its
+plumage of gorgeous scarlet, dashed with jet, swung in its airy nest,
+suspended from the topmost boughs of the tall elms, and the blue and
+yellow birds fluttered with warbling throats among the lilac's now
+flowerless but verdant boughs. Helen hardly knew which way to turn, she
+was so full of ecstacy. One moment she wished she had the wings of the
+bird, the next, the petals of the flower, and then again she felt that
+the soul within her, capable of loving and admiring all these, was worth
+a thousand times more. The letters carved on the silver bark of the
+beech arrested her steps. They were new. She had never seen them before,
+and when she saw the blended ciphers, a perception of the truth dawned
+upon her understanding. Perhaps there never was a young maiden of
+sixteen years, who had more singleness and simplicity of heart than
+Helen. From her shy and timid habits, she had never formed those close
+intimacies that so often bind accidentally together the artless and the
+artful. She was aware of the existence of love, but knew nothing of its
+varying phases. Its language had never been breathed into her ear, and
+she never dreamed of inspiring it. Could it be that it was love, which
+had given such a glow and lustre to Mittie's face, which had softened
+the harshness of her manners, and made her apparently accessible to
+sisterly tenderness?
+
+While she stood, contemplating the wedded initials, in a reverie so deep
+as to forget where she was, she felt something fall gently on her head,
+and a shower of fragrance bathed her senses. Turning suddenly round, the
+first rays of the rising sun glittered on her face, and gilt the
+flower-crown that rested on her brow. Clinton stood directly behind her,
+and his countenance wore a very different expression from what it did
+the preceding evening. And certainly it was difficult to recognize the
+pale, drooping, spiritless traveler of the previous night, in the
+bright, beaming, blushing, shy, wildly-sweet looking fairy of the
+morning hour.
+
+Helen was not angry, but she was unaffectedly frightened at finding
+herself in such close proximity with this very oppressively handsome
+young man; and without pausing to reflect on the silliness and
+childishness of the act, she flew away as rapidly as a startled bird. It
+seemed as if all the reminiscences of her childhood pressed home upon
+her in the space of a few moments. Just as she had been arrested years
+before, when fleeing from the snake that invaded her strawberry-bed, so
+she found herself impeded by a restraining arm; and looking up she
+beheld her friend, the young doctor, his face radiant with a thousand
+glad welcomes.
+
+"Oh! I am _so glad_ to see you once again," exclaimed Helen, yielding
+involuntarily to the embrace, which being one moment withheld, only made
+her heart throb with double joy.
+
+"My sister, my Helen, my own dear pupil," said Arthur Hazleton, and the
+rich glow of the morning was not deeper nor brighter than the color that
+mantled his cheek. "How well and blooming you look! They told me you
+were ill and could not be disturbed last night. I did not hope to see
+you so brilliant in health and spirits. And who crowned you so gayly,
+the fair queen of the morning?"
+
+"I don't know," she cried, taking the chaplet from her head and shaking
+the dew-drops from its leaves, "and yet I suspect it was Mr. Clinton,
+who came behind me while I was standing by yonder beech tree."
+
+Arthur's serious, dark eye rested on the young girl with a searching,
+anxious expression, as Clinton approached and paid the compliments of
+the morning with more than his wonted gracefulness of manner. He
+apologized for the freedom he had taken so sportively and naturally,
+that Helen felt it would be ridiculous in her to assume a resentment she
+did not feel, and yielding to her passionate admiration for flowers, she
+wreathed them again round her sun-bright locks.
+
+It was thus the trio approached the house. Mittie saw them from the
+window, and the keenest pang she had ever known penetrated her heart.
+She saw the beech tree shorn of its morning garland, that garland which
+was blooming triumphantly on her sister's brow. She saw Clinton walking
+by her side, calling up her smiles and blushes according to his own
+magnetic will.
+
+She accused Helen of deceit and guile. Her languor and illness the
+preceding evening was all assumed to heighten the blooming contrast of
+the present moment. Her morning ramble and meeting with Clinton were
+all premeditated, her seeming artlessness the darkest and deepest
+hypocrisy.
+
+For a few weeks Mittie had revelled in the joy of an awakened nature.
+She had reigned alone, with no counter influence to thwart the sudden
+and luxuriant growth of passion. She, alone, young, beautiful and
+attractive, had been the magnet to youth, beauty and attraction. She had
+been the centre of an island world of her own, which she had tried to
+keep as inaccessible to others as the granite coast in the Arabian
+Nights.
+
+Poor Mittie! The flower of passion has ever a dark spot on its petals, a
+dark, purple spot, not always perceptible in the first unfolding and
+glory of its bloom; but sooner or later it spreads and scorches, and
+shrivels up the heart of the blossom.
+
+She tried to control her excited feelings. She was proud, and had a
+conviction that she would degrade herself by the exhibition of jealousy
+and envy. She tried to call up a bloom to her pale cheek, and a smile to
+her quivering lip, but she was no adept in the art of dissimulation, and
+when she entered the sitting room, Helen was the first to notice her
+altered countenance. It was fortunate for all present that Alice had
+seated herself at the piano, at the solicitation of Louis, and commenced
+a brilliant overture.
+
+Alice had always loved music, but now that she had learned it as an art,
+in all its perfectness, it had become the one passion of her life. She
+lived in the world of sound, and forgot the midnight that surrounded
+her. It was impossible to look upon her without feeling the truth, that
+if God closes with Bastile bars one avenue of the senses, He opens
+another with widening gates "on golden hinges moving." Alice trembled
+with ecstacy at her own exquisite melody, like the nightingale whose
+soft plumage quivers on its breast as it sings. She would raise her
+sightless eyes to Heaven, following the upward strain with feelings of
+the most intense devotion. She called music the wind of the soul, the
+breath of God--and said if it had a color it must be _azure_.
+
+One by one they all gathered round the blind songstress. Arthur stood
+behind her, and Helen saw tears glistening in his eyes. She did not
+wonder at his emotion, for accustomed as she was to hear her, she never
+could hear Alice sing without feeling a desire to weep.
+
+"I feel so many wants," she said, "that I never had before."
+
+While Alice was singing, Helen stole softly behind Mittie, and gently
+put the flowers on her hair.
+
+"I have stolen your roses," she whispered, "but I do not mean to keep
+them."
+
+Mittie's first impulse was to toss them upon the floor, but something in
+the eye of Clinton arrested her. She dared not do it. And looking
+steadfastly downward, outblushed the roses on her brow.
+
+The cloud appeared to have passed away, and the family party that
+surrounded the breakfast table was a gay and happy one.
+
+"I told you," said Mr. Gleason, placing Helen beside him, and smiling
+affectionately on her gladsome countenance, "that we should have a very
+different looking girl this morning from our poor, little sick traveler.
+All Helen wants is the air of home to revive her. Who would want to see
+a more rustic looking lassie than she is now?"
+
+"I should like to see how Helen would look now in a yellow flannel
+robe," said Louis, mischievously, "and whether she will make as great a
+sensation on her entrance into society as she did when she burst into
+this room in such an impromptu manner?"
+
+The remembrance of the _yellow flannel robe_, and the eventful evening
+to which Louis alluded, was associated with the mother whom she had
+never ceased to mourn, and Helen bent her head to hide the tears which
+gathered into her eyes.
+
+"You are not angry, gentle sister?" said Louis, seeking her downcast
+face.
+
+"Helen was never angry in her life," cried her father, "it is her only
+fault that she has not anger enough in her nature for self-preservation."
+
+"Is that true, Helen?" asked the young doctor. "Has your father read
+your nature aright?"
+
+"No," answered Helen, looking up with an ingenuous smile. "I have felt
+very angry with you, and judged you very harshly several times. Yet I
+was most angry with myself for doing what you wished in spite of my
+vexation and rebellion."
+
+"Yet you believed me right all the time?"
+
+"I believe so. At least you always said so."
+
+Helen conversed with Arthur Hazleton with the same freedom and
+childishness as when an inmate of his mother's family. She was so
+completely a child, she could not think of herself as an object of
+importance in the social circle. She was inexpressibly grateful for
+kindness, and Arthur Hazleton's kindness had been so constant and so
+deep, she felt as if her gratitude should be commensurate with the gifts
+received. It was the moral interest he had manifested in her--the
+influence he exercised over her mind and heart which she most prized. He
+was a kind of second conscience to her, and it did not seem possible for
+her to do any thing which he openly disapproved.
+
+What Mittie could not understand was the playful, unembarrassed manner
+with which she met the graceful attentions of Clinton, after his
+fascinations had dispersed her natural shyness and reserve. She neither
+sought nor avoided him, flattered nor slighted him. She appeared neither
+dazzled nor charmed. Mittie thought this must be the most consummate
+art, when it was only the perfection of nature. Because the glass was so
+clear, so translucent, she imagined she was the victim of an optical
+illusion.
+
+There was another thing in Helen, which Mittie believed the most studied
+policy, and that was the affection and respect she manifested for her
+step-mother. Nothing could be sweeter or more endearing than the
+"mother!" which fell from her lips, whenever she addressed her--that
+name which, had never yet passed her own. Mittie had never sought the
+love of her step-mother. She had rejected it with scorn, and yet she
+envied Helen the caressing warmth and maternal tenderness which was the
+natural reward of her own loving nature.
+
+"Poor Miss Thusa!" exclaimed Helen, near the close of the day, "I must
+go and see her before the sun sets; I know, I am sure she will be glad
+to see me."
+
+"Supposing we go in a party," said Clinton. "I should like to pay my
+respects to the original old lady again."
+
+"I should think the rough reception she gave you, would preclude the
+desire for a second visit," said Mittie.
+
+"Oh! I like to conquer difficulties," he exclaimed. "The greater the
+obstacles, the greater the triumph."
+
+Perhaps he meant nothing more than met the ear, but Mittie's omnipotent
+self-love felt wounded. She had been too easy a conquest, whose value
+was already beginning to lessen.
+
+"Miss Thusa and Helen are such especial friends," she added, without
+seeming to have heard his remark, "that I should think their first
+meeting had better be private. I suspect Miss Thusa has manufactured a
+new set of ghost stories for Helen's peculiar benefit."
+
+"Are you a believer in ghosts?" asked Clinton of Helen. "If so, I envy
+you."
+
+"Envy me!"
+
+"Yes! There is such a pleasure in credulity. I sigh now over the
+vanished illusions of my boyhood."
+
+"I once believed in ghosts," replied Helen, "and even now, in solitude
+and darkness, the memories of childhood come back to me so powerfully,
+they are appalling. Miss Thusa might tell me a thousand stories now,
+without inspiring belief, while those told me in childhood can never be
+forgotten, or their impressions effaced."
+
+"Yet you like Miss Thusa, and seem to remember her with affection."
+
+"She was so kind to me that I could not help loving her--and she seemed
+so lonely, with so few to love her, it seemed cruel to shut up the heart
+against her."
+
+"One may be incredulous without being cruel, I should think," said
+Mittie, with asperity. She felt the reproach, and could not believe it
+accidental. Poor Mittie! how much she suffered.
+
+Helen, who was really desirous of seeing Miss Thusa, and did not wish
+for the companionship of Clinton, stole away from the rest and took the
+path she well remembered, through the woods. The excessive hilarity of
+the morning had faded from her spirits. There was something
+indescribable about Mittie that annoyed and pained her. The gleam of
+kindness with which she had greeted her had all gone out, and left
+dullness and darkness in its stead. She could not get near her heart. At
+every avenue it seemed closed against her, and resisted the golden key
+of affection as effectually as the wrench of violence.
+
+"She must love me," thought Helen, pursuing her way towards Miss
+Thusa's, and picking up here and there a yellow leaf that came
+fluttering down at her feet. "I cannot live in coldness and estrangement
+with one I ought to love so dearly. It must be some fault of mine; I
+must discover what it is, and if it he my right eye, I would willingly
+pluck it out to secure her affection. Alice is going home, and how worse
+than lonely will I be!"
+
+Helen caught a glimpse of the stream where, when a child, she used to
+wade in the wimpling waters, and gather the diamond mica that sparkled
+on the sand. She thought of the time when the young doctor had washed
+the strawberry stains from her face, and wiped it with his nice linen
+handkerchief, and her heart glowed at the remembrance of his kindness.
+Mingled with this glow there was the flush of shame, for she could not
+help starting at every sudden rustling sound, thinking the coiling snake
+was lurking in ambush.
+
+There was an air of desolation about Miss Thusa's cabin, which she had
+never noticed before. The stepping-stones of the door looked so much
+like grave-stones, so damp and mossy, it seemed sacrilege to tread upon
+them. Helen hardly did touch them, she skipped so lightly over the
+threshold, and stood before Miss Thusa smiling and out of breath.
+
+There she sat at her wheel, solemn and ancestral, and gray as ever, her
+foot upon the treadle, her hand upon the distaff, looking so much like a
+fixture of the place, it seemed strange not to see the moss growing
+green and damp on her stone-colored garments.
+
+"Miss Thusa!" exclaimed Helen, and the aged spinster started at the
+sound of that sweet, childish voice. Helen's arms were around her neck
+in a moment, and without knowing why, she burst into an unexpected fit
+of weeping.
+
+"I am so foolish," said Helen, after she had dashed away her tears, and
+squeezed herself into a little seat between Miss Thusa and her wheel,
+"but I am so glad to get home, so glad to see you all once more."
+
+Miss Thusa's iron nerves seemed quite unstrung by the unexpected delight
+of greeting her favorite child. She had not heard of her return, and
+could scarcely realize her presence. She kept wiping her glasses,
+without seeming conscious that the moisture was in her own eyes, gazed
+on Helen's upturned face with indescribable tenderness, smoothed back
+her golden brown hair, and then stooping down, kissed, with an air of
+benediction, her fair young brow.
+
+"You have not forgotten me, then! You are still nothing but a child,
+nothing but little Helen. And yet you are grown--and you look healthier
+and rounder, and a shade more womanly. You are not as handsome as
+Mittie, and yet where one stops to look at her, ten will turn to gaze on
+you."
+
+"Oh, no! Mittie is grown so beautiful no one could think of any one else
+when she is near."
+
+"The young man with the long black hair thinks her beautiful? Does he
+not?"
+
+"I believe so. Who could help it?"
+
+"Does she love you better than she used to?" asked Miss Thusa.
+
+"I will try to deserve her love," replied Helen, evasively; "but, Miss
+Thusa, I am coming every day to take spinning lessons of you. I really
+want to learn to spin. Perhaps father may fail one of these days, and I
+be thrown on my own resources, and then I could earn my living as you do
+now. Will you bequeath me your wheel, Miss Thusa?"
+
+The bright smile with which she looked up to Miss Thusa, died away in a
+kind of awe, as she met the solemn earnestness of her glance.
+
+"Yes, yes, child, I have long intended it as a legacy of love to you.
+There is a history hanging to it, which I will tell you by and by. For
+more than forty years that wheel and I have been companions and friends,
+and it is so much a part of myself, that if any one should cut into the
+old carved wood, I verily believe the blood-drops would drip from my
+heart. Things will grow together, powerfully, Helen, after a long, long
+time. And so you want to learn to spin, child. Well! suppose you sit
+down and try. These little white fingers will soon be cut by the flax,
+though, I can tell you."
+
+"May I, Miss Thusa, may I?" cried Helen, seating herself with childish
+delight at the venerable instrument, and giving it a whirl that might
+have made the flax smoke. Miss Thusa looked on with a benevolent and
+patronizing air, while Helen pressed her foot upon the treadle,
+wondering why it would jerk so, when it went round with Miss Thusa so
+smoothly, and pulled out the flax at arm's length, wondering why it
+would run into knots and bunches, when it glided so smooth and even
+through Miss Thusa's practiced fingers. Helen was so busy, and so
+excited by the new employment, she did not perceive a shadow cross the
+window, nor was she aware of the approach of any one, till an unusually
+gay laugh made her turn her head.
+
+"I thought Miss Thusa looked wonderfully rejuvenated," said Arthur
+Hazleton, leaning against the window-frame on the outside of the
+building, "but methinks she is the more graceful spinner, after all."
+
+"This is only my first lesson," cried Helen, jumping up, for the band
+had slipped from the groove, and hung in a hopeless tangle--"and I fear
+Miss Thusa will never be willing to give me another."
+
+"Ten thousand, child, if you will take them," cried Miss Thusa,
+good-naturedly, repairing the mischief her pupil had done.
+
+"Do you know the sun is down?" asked Arthur, "and that your path lies
+through the woods?"
+
+Helen started, and for the first time became aware that the shadows of
+twilight were deepening on the landscape. She did not think Arthur
+Hazleton would accompany her home. He would test her courage as he had
+done before, and taking a hurried leave of Miss Thusa, promising to stay
+and hear many a legend next time, she jumped over the stile before
+Arthur could overtake her and assist her steps.
+
+"Would you prefer walking alone?" said Arthur, "or will you accept of my
+escort?"
+
+"I did not think you intended coming with me," said Helen, "or I would
+have waited."
+
+"You thought me as rude and barbarous as ever."
+
+"Perhaps you think me as foolish and timid as ever."
+
+"You have become courageous and fearless then--I congratulate you--I
+told you that you would one day be a heroine."
+
+"That day will never come," said Helen, blushing. "My fears are
+hydras--as fast as one is destroyed another is born. Shadows will always
+be peopled with phantoms, and darkness is to me the shadow of the
+grave."
+
+"I am sorry to hear you say so, Helen," said the young doctor, taking
+her hand, and leading her along the shadowy path, "and yet you feel safe
+with me. You fear not when I am with you."
+
+"Oh, no!" exclaimed Helen, involuntarily drawing nearer to him--"I never
+fear in your presence. Midnight would seem noonday, and all phantoms
+flee away."
+
+"And yet, Helen," he cried, "you have a friend always near, stronger to
+protect than legions of angels can be. Do you realize this truth?"
+
+"I trust, I believe I do," answered Helen, looking upward into the dome
+of darkening blue that seemed resting upon the tall, dark pillars of the
+woods. "I sometimes think if I were really exposed to a great danger, I
+could brave it without shrinking--or if danger impended over one I
+loved, I should forget all selfish apprehensions. Try not to judge me
+too severely--and I will do my best to correct the faults of my
+childhood."
+
+They walked on in silence a few moments, for there was something hushing
+in the soft murmurs of the branches, something like the distant roaring
+of the ocean surge.
+
+"I must take Alice home to-morrow," said he, at length; "her mother
+longs to behold her. I wish you were going with her. I fear you will not
+be happy here."
+
+"I cannot leave my father," said Helen, sadly, "and if I can only keep
+out of the way of other people's happiness, I will try to be content."
+
+"May I speak to you freely, Helen, as I did several years ago? May I
+counsel you as a friend--guide you as a brother still?"
+
+"It is all that I wished--more than I dared to ask. I only fear that I
+shall give you too much trouble."
+
+There was a gray, old rock by the way-side, that looked exactly as if it
+belonged to Miss Thusa's establishment. Arthur Hazleton seated Helen
+there, and threw himself on the moss at her feet.
+
+"I am going away to-morrow," said he, "and I feel as if I had much to
+say. I leave you exposed to temptation; and to put you on your guard, I
+must say perhaps what you will think unauthorized. You know so little of
+the world--are so guileless and unsuspecting--I cannot bear to alarm
+your simplicity; and yet, Helen, you cannot always remain a child."
+
+"Oh, I wish I could," she exclaimed; "I cannot bear the thought of being
+otherwise. As long as I am a child, I shall be caressed, cherished, and
+forgiven for all my faults. I never shall be able to act on my own
+responsibility--never."
+
+"But, Helen, you have attained the stature of womanhood. You are looked
+upon as a candidate for admiration--as the rival of your beautiful
+sister. You will be flattered and courted, not as a child, but as a
+woman. The young man who has become, as it were, domesticated in your
+family, has extraordinary personal attractions, and every member of the
+household appears to have yielded to his influence. Were I as sure of
+his moral worth as of his outward graces, I would not say what I have
+done. But, with one doubt on my mind, as your early friend, as the
+self-elected guardian of your happiness, I cannot forbear to caution, to
+admonish, perhaps to displease, by my too watchful, too officious
+friendship."
+
+Arthur paused. His voice had become agitated and his manner excited.
+
+"You cannot believe me capable of the meanness of envy," he added. "Were
+Bryant Clinton less handsome, less fascinating, his sincerity and truth
+might be a question of less moment."
+
+"How could you envy any one," cried Helen, earnestly, unconscious how
+much her words and manner expressed. "Displeased! Oh! I thank you so
+much. But indeed I do not admire Mr. Bryant Clinton at all. He is
+entirely too handsome and dazzling. I do not like that long, curling,
+shining hair of his. The first time I saw him, it reminded me of the
+undulations of that terrible snake in the strawberry patch, and I cannot
+get over the association. Then he does not admire me at all, only as the
+sister of Mittie."
+
+"He has paid Mittie very great and peculiar attention, and people look
+upon them as betrothed lovers. Were you to become an object of jealousy
+to her, you would be very, very unhappy. The pleasure of gratified
+vanity would be faint to the stings exasperated and wounded love could
+inflict."
+
+"For all the universe could offer I would not be my sister's rival,"
+cried Helen, rising impetuously, and looking round her with a wild
+startled expression. "I will go and tell her so at once. I will ask her
+to confide in me and trust me. I will go away if she wishes it. If my
+father is willing, I will live with Miss Thusa in the wild woods."
+
+"Wait awhile," said Arthur, smiling at her vehemence, "wait Helen,
+patiently, firmly. When temptations arise, it is time to resist. I fear
+I have done wrong in giving premature warning, but the impulse was
+irresistible, in the silence of these twilight woods."
+
+Helen looked up through the soft shadows to thank him again for his
+counsels, and promise that they should be the guide of her life, but the
+words died on her lips. There was something so darkly penetrating in the
+expression of his countenance, so earnest, yet troubled, so opposite to
+its usual serene gravity, that it infected her. Her heart beat
+violently, and for the first time in her life she felt embarrassed in
+his presence.
+
+That night Helen pressed a wakeful pillow. She felt many years older
+than when she rose in the morning, for the experience of the day had
+been so oppressive. She could not realize that she had thought and felt
+and learned so much in twelve short hours.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+    "All other passions have their hour of thinking,
+    And hear the voice of reason. This alone
+    Breaks at the first suspicion into frenzy,
+    And sweeps the soul in tempests."--_Shakspeare._
+
+
+The day that Alice left, Helen felt very sad and lonely, but she
+struggled with her feelings, and busied herself as much as possible with
+the household arrangements. Mrs. Gleason took her into the chamber which
+Mittie had been occupying alone, and showed her every thing that had
+been prepared for her accommodation as well as her sister's. Helen was
+unbounded in her gratitude, and thought the room a paradise, with its
+nice curtains, tasteful furniture and airy structure.
+
+When night came on, Helen retired early to her chamber, leaving Mittie
+with Clinton. She left the light burning on the hearth, for the memory
+of the lonely spinster, invoking by her song the horrible being, who
+descended, piece-meal, down the chimney, had not died away. That was the
+very chamber in which Miss Thusa used to spin, and recite her dreadful
+tales, and Helen remembered them all. It had been papered, and painted,
+and renewed, but the chimney was the same, and the shadows rested there
+as darkly as ever.
+
+When Mittie entered the room, Helen was already in that luxurious state
+between sleeping and waking, which admits of the consciousness of
+enjoyment, without its responsibility. She was reclining on the bed,
+shaded by the muslin curtains, with such an expression of innocence and
+peace on her countenance, it was astonishing how any one could have
+marred the tranquillity of her repose.
+
+The entrance of her sister partially roused her, and the glare of the
+lamp upon her face completely awakened her.
+
+"Oh! sister!" she cried, "I am so glad you have come. It is so long
+since we have slept together. I have been thinking how happy we can be,
+where so much has been done for our comfort and luxury."
+
+"You can enjoy all the luxuries yourself," said Mittie, "and be welcome
+to them all. I am going to sleep in the next room, for I prefer being
+alone, as I have been before."
+
+"Oh! Mittie, you are not going to leave me alone; you will not, surely,
+be so unkind?"
+
+"I wonder if I were not left alone, while Alice was with you, and I
+wonder if I complained of unkindness!"
+
+"But _you_ did not care. You are not dependent on others. I am sure if
+you had asked me, I would have spread a pallet on the floor, rather than
+have left you alone."
+
+"Helen, you are too old now to be such a baby," said Mittie,
+impatiently; "it is time you were cured of your foolish fears of being
+alone. You make yourself perfectly ridiculous by such nonsense."
+
+She busied herself gathering her night-clothes as she spoke, and took
+the lamp from the table.
+
+Helen sprang from the bed, and stood between Mittie and the door.
+
+"No," said she, "if we must separate, I will go. You need not leave the
+chamber which has so long been yours. I do dread being alone, but alas!
+I must be lonely wherever I am, unless I have a heart to lean upon. Oh!
+Mittie, if you knew how I _could_ love you, you would let me throw my
+arms around you, and find a pillow on your sisterly breast."
+
+She looked pleadingly, wistfully at Mittie, while tears glittered in her
+soft, earnest eyes.
+
+"Foolish, foolish child!" cried Mittie, setting down the lamp
+petulantly, and tossing her night-dress on the bed--"stay where you are,
+but do not inflict too much sentiment on me--you know I never liked it."
+
+"No," said Helen, thoughtfully, "I might disturb you, and perhaps if I
+once conquer my timidity, I shall be victor for life. I should like to
+make the trial, and I may as well begin to-night as any time. I do not
+wish to be troublesome, or intrude my company on any one."
+
+Helen's gentle spirit was roused by the arbitrary manner in which Mittie
+had treated her, and she found courage to act as her better judgment
+approved. She was sorry she had pleaded so earnestly for what she might
+have claimed as a right, and resolved to leave her sister to the
+solitude she so much coveted.
+
+With a low, but cold "good night," she glided from the apartment, closed
+the door, passed through the passage, entered a lonely chamber, and
+kneeling down by the bedside, prayed to be delivered from the bondage of
+fear, and the haunting phantoms of her own imagination. When she laid
+her head upon the pillow, she felt strong in the resolution she had
+exercised, glad that she had dared to resist her own weak, irresolute
+heart. She drew aside the window curtains and let the stars shine down
+brightly on her face. How could she feel alone, with such a glorious
+company all round and about her? How could she fear, when so many
+radiant lamps were lighted to disperse the darkness? Gradually the quick
+beating of her heart subsided, the moistened lashes shut down over her
+dazzled eyes, and she slept quietly till the breaking of morn. When she
+awoke, and recalled the struggles she had gone through, she rejoiced at
+the conquest she had obtained over herself. She was sure if Arthur
+Hazleton knew it, he would approve of her conduct, and she was glad that
+she cherished no vindictive feelings towards Mittie.
+
+"She certainly has a right to her preferences," she said; "if she likes
+solitude, I ought not to blame her for seeking it, and I dare say my
+company is dull and insipid to her. I must have seemed weak and foolish
+to her, she who never knew what fear or weakness is."
+
+As she was leaving her room, with many a vivid resolution to conquer her
+besetting weaknesses, her step-mother entered, unconscious that the
+chamber had an occupant. She looked around with surprise, and Helen
+feared, with displeasure.
+
+"Mittie preferred sleeping alone," she hastened to say, "and I thought
+she had a prior right to the other apartment."
+
+"Selfish, selfish to the heart's core!" ejaculated Mrs. Gleason. "But,
+my dear child, I cannot allow you to be the victim of an arbitrary will.
+The more you yield, the more concessions will be required. You know
+not, dream not, of Mittie's imperious and exacting nature."
+
+"I begin to believe, dear mother, that the discipline we most need, we
+receive. I did feel very unhappy last night, and when I entered this
+room, the dread of remaining all alone, in darkness and silence, almost
+stopped the beatings of my heart. It was the first time I ever passed a
+night without some companion, for every one has indulged my weakness,
+which they believed constitutional. But after the first few moments--a
+sense of God's presence and protection, of the guardianship of angels,
+of the nearness of Heaven, hushed all my fears, and filled me with a
+kind of divine tranquillity. Oh! mother, I feel so much better this
+morning for the trial, that I thank Mittie for having cast me, as it
+were, on the bosom of God."
+
+"With such a spirit, Helen," said her step-mother, tenderly embracing
+her, "you will be able to meet whatever trials the discipline of your
+life may need. Self-reliance and God-reliance are the two great
+principles that must sustain us. We must do our duty, and leave the
+result to Providence. And, believe me, Helen, it is a species of
+ingratitude to suffer ourselves to be made unhappy by the faults of
+others, for which we are not responsible, when blessings are clustering
+richly round us."
+
+Helen felt strengthened by the affectionate counsels of her step-mother,
+and did not allow the cloud on Mittie's brow to dim the sunshine of
+hers. Mindful of the warnings of the young doctor, she avoided Clinton
+as much as possible, whose deep blue eyes with their long sable lashes
+often rested on her with an expression she could not define, and which
+she shrunk from meeting. True to her promise she visited Miss Thusa once
+a day, and took her spinning lessons, till she could turn the wheel like
+a fairy, and manufacture thread as smooth and silky as her venerable
+teacher. She insisted on bleaching it also, and flew about among the
+long grass, with her bright watering pot, like a living flower sprung up
+in the wilderness.
+
+She was returning one evening from the cabin at a rather later hour than
+usual, for she was becoming more and more courageous, and could walk
+through the woods without starting at every sound. The trees were now
+beginning to assume the magnificent hues of autumn, and glowed with
+mingled scarlet, orange, emerald, and purple. There was such a
+brightness, such a glory in these variegated dyes, that they took away
+all impression of loneliness, and the crumpling of the dry, yellow
+leaves in the path had a sociable, pleasant sound. She hoped Arthur
+Hazleton would return before this jewelry of the woods had faded away,
+that she might walk with him through their gorgeous foliage, and hear
+from his lips the deep moral of the waning season. She reached the gray
+rock where Arthur had seated her, and sitting down on a thick cushion of
+fallen leaves, she remembered every word he had said to her the evening
+before his departure.
+
+"Why are you sitting so mute and lonely here, fair Helen?" said a
+musical voice close to her ear, and Clinton suddenly came and took a
+seat by her side. Helen felt embarrassed by his unexpected presence, and
+wished that she could free herself from it without rudeness.
+
+"I am gazing on the beauty of the autumnal woods," she replied, her
+cheeks glowing like the scarlet maple leaves.
+
+"I should think such contemplation better fitted one less young and
+bright and fair," said Clinton. "Miss Thusa, for instance, in her
+time-gray home.
+
+"I am sure nothing can be brighter or more glorious than these colors,"
+said Helen, making a motion to rise. It seemed to her she could see the
+black eyes of Mittie gleaming at her through the rustling foliage.
+
+"Do not go yet," said Clinton. "This is such a sweet, quiet hour--and it
+is the first time I have seen you alone since the morning after your
+arrival. What have I done that you shun me as an enemy, and refuse me
+the slightest token of confidence and regard?"
+
+"I am not conscious of showing such great avoidance," said Helen, more
+and more embarrassed. "I am so much of a stranger, and it seemed so
+natural that you should prefer the society of Mittie, I considered my
+absence a favor to both."
+
+"Till you came," he replied, in a low, persuasive accent, "I did find a
+charm in her society unknown before, but now I feel every thought and
+feeling and hope turned into a new channel. Even before you came, I
+felt you were to be my destiny. Stay, Helen, you shall not leave me till
+I have told you what my single heart is too narrow to contain."
+
+"Let me go," cried Helen, struggling to release the hand which he had
+taken, and springing from her rocky seat. "It is not right to talk to me
+in this manner, and I will not hear you. It is false to Mittie, and
+insulting to me."
+
+"I should be false to Mittie should I pretend to love her now, when my
+whole heart and soul are yours," exclaimed the young man, vehemently. "I
+can no more resist the impulse that draws me to you, than I can stay the
+beatings of this wildly throbbing heart. Love, Helen, cannot be forced,
+neither can it be restrained."
+
+"I know nothing of love," cried Helen, pressing on her homeward path,
+with a terror she dared not betray, "nor do I wish to know--but one
+thing I do know--I feel nothing but dread in your presence. You make me
+wretched and miserable. I am sure if you have the feelings of a
+gentleman you will leave me after telling you this."
+
+"The more you urge me to flee, the more firmly am I rooted to your side.
+You do not know your own heart, Helen. You are so young and guileless.
+It is not dread of me, but your sister's displeasure that makes you
+tremble with fear. You cannot fear me, Helen--you _must_, you _will_,
+you _shall_ love me."
+
+Helen was now wrought up to a pitch of excitement and terror that was
+perfectly uncontrollable. Every word uttered by Clinton seemed burned
+in--on her brain, not her heart, and she pressed both hands on her
+forehead, as if to put out the flame.
+
+"Oh! that Arthur Hazleton were here," she exclaimed, "he would protect
+me."
+
+"No danger shall reach you while I am near you, Helen," cried Clinton,
+again endeavoring to take her hand in his--but Helen darted into a side
+path and ran as fleetly and wildly as when she believed the glittering,
+fiery-eyed viper was pursuing her. Sometimes she caught hold of the
+slender trunk of a tree to give her a quicker momentum, and sometimes
+she sprang over brooklets, which, in a calmer moment, she would have
+deemed impossible. She felt that Clinton had slackened his pursuit as
+she drew near her home, but she never paused till she found herself in
+her own chamber, where, sinking into a chair, she burst into a passion
+of tears such as she had never wept before. Shame, dread, resentment,
+fear--all pressed so crushingly upon her, her soul was bowed even to the
+dust. The future lowered so darkly before her. Mittie--she could not
+help looking upon her as a kind of avenging spirit--that would forever
+haunt her.
+
+While she was in this state of ungovernable emotion, Mittie came in,
+with a face as white and rigid as marble, and stood directly in front of
+her.
+
+"Why have you fled from Clinton so?" she cried, in a strange, harsh
+tone. "Tell me, for I will know. Tell me, for I have a right to know."
+
+Helen tried to speak, but her breathless lips sought in vain to utter a
+sound. There was a bright, red spot in the centre of both cheeks, but
+the rest of her face was as colorless as Mittie's.
+
+"Speak," cried Mittie, stamping her foot, with an imperious gesture,
+"and tell me the truth, or you had better never have been born."
+
+"Ask me nothing," she said at length, recovering breath to answer, "for
+the truth will only make you wretched."
+
+"What has he said to you?" repeated Mittie, seizing the arm of Helen
+with a force of which she was not aware. "Have you dared to let him talk
+to you about love?"
+
+"Alas! I want not his love. I believe him not," cried Helen; "and, oh!
+Mittie, trust him not. Think of him no more. He does not love you--is
+not worthy of you."
+
+Mittie tossed Helen's arm from her with a violence that made her writhe
+with pain--while her eyes flashed with the bale-fires of passion.
+
+"How dare you tell me such a falsehood?" she exclaimed, "you little,
+artful, consummate hypocrite. He never told you this. You have been
+trying to supplant me from the moment of your arrival, trying to make
+yourself appear a victim, a saint--a martyr to a sister's jealous and
+exciting temper. I have seen it all. I have watched the whole, day after
+day. I have seen you stealing off to Miss Thusa's--pretending to love
+that horrible old woman--only that you might have clandestine meetings
+with Clinton. And now you are seeking to shake my confidence in his
+faith and truth, that you may alienate him more completely from me."
+
+"Oh! Mittie--don't," cried Helen, "don't for Heaven's sake, talk so
+dreadfully. You don't mean what you say. You don't know what you are
+doing."
+
+"I tell you I do know--and you shall know to your cost, you little wolf
+in lamb's clothing," cried Mittie, growing more and more frantic as she
+yielded to the violence of her passions. "It was not enough, was it, to
+wind yourself round the young doctor with your subtle, childish ways,
+till you have made a fool of him with all his wisdom, treating him with
+a forwardness and familiarity that ought to make you blush at the
+remembrance--but you must come between me and the only being this side
+of Heaven I ever cared for? Take care of yourself; get out of my way,
+for I am growing mad. The sight of you makes me a maniac."
+
+Helen was indeed terrified at an exhibition of temper so unparalleled.
+She rose, though her limbs trembled so she could scarcely walk, and took
+two or three steps towards the door.
+
+"Where are you going?" exclaimed Mittie.
+
+"You told me to leave you," said Helen, faintly, "and indeed I cannot
+stay--I ought not to stay, and hear such false and cruel things. I will
+not stay," she exclaimed, with a sudden and startling flash of
+indignation; "I will not stay to be so insulted and trampled on. Let me
+pass."
+
+"You shall not go to Clinton."
+
+"Let me pass, I say," cried Helen, with a wild vehemence, that
+contrasted fearfully with her usual gentleness. "I am afraid of you,
+with such daggers in your tongue."
+
+She rushed passed Mittie, flew down stairs, into the sitting room, in
+the presence of her father, step-mother, and Clinton, who was sitting as
+if perfectly unconscious of the tempest he had roused.
+
+"Father, father," she exclaimed, throwing herself into his arms. "Oh,
+father."
+
+Nothing could be more startling than her appearance. The bright spot on
+her cheek was now deepened to purple, and her eyes had a strange,
+feverish lustre.
+
+"Why, what is the meaning of this?" cried Mr. Gleason, turning in alarm
+to his wife.
+
+"Something must have terrified her--only feel of her hands, they are as
+cold as ice; and look at her cheeks."
+
+"She seems ill, very ill," observed Clinton, rising, much agitated;
+"shall I go for a physician?"
+
+"I fear Doctor Hazleton is not yet returned," said Mrs. Gleason,
+anxiously. "I think she is indeed ill--alarmingly so."
+
+"No, no," cried Helen, clinging closer to her father, "don't send for
+Doctor Hazleton--anybody in the world but him. I cannot see him."
+
+"How strange," exclaimed Mr. Gleason, "she must be getting delirious.
+You had better carry her up stairs," added he, turning to his wife, "and
+do something to relieve her, while I go for some medical advice. She is
+subject to sudden nervous attacks."
+
+"No, no," cried Helen, still more vehemently, "don't take me up stairs;
+I cannot go back; it would kill me. Only let me stay with you."
+
+Mr. Gleason, who well remembered the terrible fright Helen had suffered
+in her childhood--her fainting over her mother's corpse--her
+imprisonment in the lonely school-house--believed that she had received
+some sudden shock inflicted by a phantom of her own imagination. Her
+frantic opposition to being taken up stairs confirmed this belief, and
+he insisted on his wife's conveying her to her own room and giving her
+an anodyne. Clinton felt as if his presence must be intrusive, and left
+the room--but he divined the cause of Helen's strange emotion. He heard
+a quick, passionate tread overhead, and he well knew what the
+lion-strength of Mittie's unchained passions must be.
+
+Mrs. Gleason, too, had her suspicions of the truth, having seen Helen's
+homeward flight, and heard the voice of Mittie soon afterwards in loud
+and angry tones. She besought her husband to leave her to her care,
+assuring him that all she needed was perfect quietude. For more than an
+hour Mrs. Gleason sat by the side of Helen, holding her hands in one of
+hers, while she bathed with the other her throbbing temples. Gradually
+the deep, purple flush faded to a pale hue, and her eyes gently closed.
+The step-mother thought she slept, and darkened the window--so that the
+rays of the young moon could not glimmer through the casement. Mrs.
+Gleason looked upon Helen with anguish, seeing before her so much misery
+in consequence of her sister's jealous and irascible temper. She sighed
+for the departure of Clinton, whose coming had roused Mittie to such
+terrible life, and whose fascinations might be deadly to the peace of
+Helen. She could see no remedy to the evils which every day might
+increase--for she knew by long experience the indomitable nature of
+Mittie's temper.
+
+"Mother," said Helen, softly, opening her eyes, "I do not sleep, but I
+rest, and it is so sweet--I feel as if I had been out in a terrible
+storm--so shattered and so bruised within. Oh! mother, you cannot think
+of the shameful accusations she has brought against me. It makes me
+shudder to think of them. I shall never, never be happy again. They will
+always be ringing in my ears--always blistering and burning me."
+
+"You should not think her words of such consequence," said Mrs. Gleason,
+soothingly; "nothing she can say can soil the purity of your nature, or
+alienate the affections of your friends. She is a most unhappy girl,
+doomed, I fear, to be the curse of this otherwise happy household."
+
+"I cannot live so," cried Helen, clasping her hands entreatingly, "I
+would rather die than live in such strife and shame. It makes me wicked
+and passionate. I cannot help feeling hatred rising in my bosom, and
+then I loathe myself in dust and ashes. Oh! let me go somewhere, where I
+may be at peace--anywhere in the world where I shall be in nobody's way.
+Ask father to send me back to school--I am young enough, and shall be
+years yet; or I should like to go into a nunnery, that must be such a
+peaceful place. No stormy passions--no dark, bosom strife."
+
+"No, my dear, we are not going to give up you, the joy and idol of our
+hearts. You shall not be the sacrifice; I will shield you henceforth
+from the violence of this lawless girl. Tell me all the events of this
+evening, Helen, without reserve. Let there be perfect confidence between
+us, or we are all lost."
+
+Then Helen, though with many a painful and burning blush, told of her
+interview with Clinton, and all of which Mittie had so frantically
+accused her.
+
+"When I rushed down stairs, I did not know what I was doing--my brain
+seemed on fire, and I thought my reason was gone. If I could find a
+place of shelter from her wrath, a spot where her eye could not blaze
+upon me! that was my only thought."
+
+"Oh! that this dangerous, and I fear, unprincipled young man had never
+entered our household!" cried Mrs. Gleason; "and yet I would not judge
+him too harshly. Mittie's admiration, from the first, was only too
+manifest, and he must have seen before you arrived, the extraordinary
+defects of her temper. That he should prefer you, after having seen and
+known you, seems so natural, I cannot help pitying, while I blame him.
+If it were possible to accelerate his departure--I must consult with Mr.
+Gleason, for something must be done to restore the lost peace of the
+family."
+
+"Let me go, dear mother, and all may yet be well."
+
+"If you would indeed like to visit the Parsonage, and remain till this
+dark storm subsides, it might perhaps be judicious."
+
+"Not the Parsonage--never, never again shall I be embosomed in its
+hallowed shades--I would not go there now, for ten thousand worlds."
+
+"It is wrong, Helen, to allow the words of one, insane with passion, to
+have the least influence on the feelings or conduct. Mrs. Hazleton,
+Arthur, and Alice, have been your best and truest friends, and you must
+not allow yourself to be alienated from them."
+
+Helen closed her eyes to hide the tears that gathered on their surface,
+and it was not long before she sunk into a deep sleep. She had indeed
+received a terrible shock, and one from which her nerves would long
+vibrate.
+
+The first time a young girl listens to the language of love, even if it
+steals into her heart gently and soothingly as the sweet south wind,
+wakening the sleeping fragrance of a thousand bosom flowers, every
+feeling flutters and trembles like the leaves of the mimosa, and recoils
+from the slightest contact. But when she is forced suddenly and rudely
+to hear the accents of passion, with which she associates the idea of
+guilt, and treachery, and shame, she feels as if some robber had broken
+into the temple consecrated to the purest, most innocent emotions, and
+stolen the golden treasures hidden there. This alone was sufficient to
+wound and terrify the young and sensitive Helen, but when her sister
+assailed her with such a temper of wrathful accusations, accusations so
+shameful and degrading, it is not strange that she was wrought up to the
+state of partial frenzy which led her to rush to a father's bosom for
+safety and repose.
+
+And where was Mittie, the unhappy victim of her own wild, ungovernable
+passion?
+
+She remained in her room with her door locked, seated at the window,
+looking out into the darkness, which was illuminated by the rays of a
+waxing moon. She could see the white bark of the beech tree, conspicuous
+among the other trees, and knowing the spot where the letters were
+carved, she imagined she could trace them all, and that they were the
+scarlet color of blood.
+
+She had no light in her room, but feeling in her writing desk for the
+pen-knife, she stole down stairs the back way and took the path she had
+so often walked with Clinton. She was obliged to pass the room where
+Helen lay, and glancing in at the window when the curtain fluttered, she
+could see her pale, sad-looking face, and she did not like to look
+again. She knew she had wronged her, for the moment she had given
+utterance to her railing words, conscience told her they were false.
+This conviction, however, did not lessen the rancor and bitterness of
+her feelings. Hurrying on, she paused in front of the beech tree, and
+the cyphers glared Upon her as if seen through a magnifying glass--they
+looked so large and fiery. Opening her pen-knife, she smiled as a
+moonbeam glared on its keen, blue edge. Had any one seen the expression
+of her features, as she gazed at that shining, open blade, they would
+have shuddered, and trembled for her purpose.
+
+With a quick, hurried motion, she began to cut the bark from round the
+letters, till they seemed to melt away into one large cavity. She knew
+that some one was coming behind her, and she knew, too, by a kind of
+intuition, that it was Clinton, but she did not pause in her work of
+destruction.
+
+"Mittie! what are you doing?" he exclaimed. "Good Heavens!--give me that
+knife."
+
+As she threw up her right hand to elude his grasp, she saw the blood
+streaming from her fingers. She was not aware that she had cut herself.
+She suffered no pain. She gazed with pleasure on the flowing blood.
+
+"Let me bind my handkerchief round the wound," said Clinton, in a
+gentle, sympathizing voice. "You are really enough to drive one
+frantic."
+
+"_Your_ handkerchief!" she exclaimed, in an accent of ineffable scorn.
+"I would put a bandage of fire round it as soon. _Drive one frantic!_ I
+suppose your conduct must make one very calm, very cool and reasonable.
+But I can tell you, Bryant Clinton, that when you made me the plaything
+of your selfish and changing passions, you began a dangerous game. You
+thought me, perchance, a love-sick maiden, whose heart would break in
+silence and darkness, but you know me not. I will not suffer alone. If I
+sink into an abyss of wretchedness, it shall not be alone. I will drag
+down with me all who have part or lot in my misery and despair."
+
+Clinton's eye quailed before the dark, passionate glance riveted upon
+him. The moon gave only a pale, doubtful lustre, and its reflection on
+her face was like the night-light on deep waters--a dark, quivering
+brightness, giving one an idea of beauty and splendor and danger. Her
+hair was loose and hung around her in black, massy folds, imparting an
+air of wild, tragic majesty to her figure. Twisting one of the sable
+tresses round her bleeding fingers, she pressed them against her heart.
+
+"Mittie," said Clinton. There was something remarkable in the voice of
+Clinton. Its lowest tones, and they were exceedingly low, were as
+distinct and clear as the notes of the most exquisitely tuned
+instrument. "Mittie! why have you wrought yourself up to this terrible
+pitch of passion? Yet why do I ask? I know but too well. I uttered a few
+words of gallant seeming to your young sister, which sent her flying
+like a startled deer through the woods. Your reproaches completed the
+work my folly began. Between us both we have frightened the poor child
+almost into spasms. Verily we have been much to blame."
+
+"Deceiver! you told her that you loved me no more. Deny it if you can."
+
+"I will neither assert nor deny any thing. If you have not sufficient
+confidence in my honor, and reliance on my truth to trust and believe
+me, my only answer to your reproaches shall be silence. Light indeed
+must be my hold on your heart, if a breath has power to shake it. The
+time has been--but, alas!--how sadly are you changed!"
+
+"I changed!" repeated she. "Would to Heaven I could change!"
+
+"Yes, changed. Be not angry, but hear me. Where is the softness, the
+womanly tenderness and grace that first enchanted me, forming as it did
+so bewitching a contrast with the dazzling splendor of your beauty? I
+did not know then that daggers were sheathed in your brilliant eyes, or
+that scorn lurked in those beautiful lips. Nay, interrupt me not. Where,
+I say, is the loving, trusting being I loved and adored? You watch me
+with the vigilance of hatred, the intensity of revenge. Every word and
+look have been misconstrued, every action warped and perverted by
+prejudice and passion. You are jealous, frantically jealous of a mere
+child, with whom I idly amused myself one passing moment. You have made
+your parents look coldly and suspiciously upon me. You have taught me a
+bitter lesson."
+
+Every drop of blood forsook the cheeks of Mittie. She felt as if she
+were congealing--so cold fell the words of Clinton on her burning heart.
+
+"Then I have forever estranged you. You love me no longer!" said she, in
+a faint, husky voice.
+
+"No, Mittie, I love you still. Constancy is one of the elements of my
+nature. But love no longer imparts happiness. The chain of gold is
+transformed to iron, and the links corrode and lacerate the heart. I
+feel that I have cast a cloud over the household, and it is necessary to
+depart. I go to-morrow, and may you recover that peace of which I have
+momentarily deprived you. I shall pass away from your memory like the
+pebble that ruffles a moment the face of the water then sinks, and is
+remembered no more."
+
+"What, going--going to-morrow?" she exclaimed, catching hold of his arm
+for support, for she felt sick and dizzy at the sudden annunciation.
+
+"Yes!" he replied, drawing her arm through his, and retaining her hand,
+which was as cold as ice. "Your brother Louis will accompany me. It is
+meet that he should visit my Virginian home, since I have so long
+trespassed on the hospitality of his. Whether I ever return depends upon
+yourself. If my presence bring only discord and sorrow, it is better,
+far better, that I never look upon your face again. If you cannot trust
+me, let us part forever."
+
+They were now very near the house, very near a large tree, which had a
+rustic bench leaning against it. Its branches swept against the fence
+which enclosed Miss Thusa's bleaching ground. The white arch of the
+bridge spanned the shadows that hung darkly over it. Mittie drew away
+her arm from Clinton and sank down upon the bench. She felt as if the
+roots of her heart were all drawing out, so intense was her anguish.
+
+Clinton going away--probably never to return--going, too, cold, altered
+and estranged. It was in vain he breathed to her words of love, the
+loving spirit, the vitality was wanting. And this was the dissolving of
+her wild dreams of love--of her fair visions of felicity. But the
+keenest pang was imparted by the conviction that it was her own fault.
+He had told her so, dispassionately and deliberately. It was her own
+evil temper that had disenchanted him. It was her own dark passions
+which had destroyed the spell her beauty had wrapped around him.
+
+What the warnings of a father, the admonitions of friends had failed to
+effect, a few words from the lips of Clinton had suddenly wrought. He
+had loved. He should love her once more--for she would be soft and
+gentle and womanly for his sake. She would be kind to Helen, and
+courteous to all. This flashing moment of introspection gave her a
+glimpse of her own heart which made her shudder. It was not, however,
+the sunlight of truth, growing brighter and brighter, that made the
+startling revelation; it was the lightning glare of excitement glancing
+into the dark abysses of passion, fiery and transitory, leaving behind a
+deeper, heavier gloom. Self-abased by the image on which she had been
+gazing, and subdued by the might of her grief, she covered her face with
+her hands and wept the bitterest tears that ever fell from the eyes of
+woman. They were drops of molten pride, hot and blistering, leaving the
+eyes blood-shot and dim. It was a strange thing to see the haughty
+Mittie weep. Clinton sat down beside her, and poured the oil of his
+smooth, seductive words on the troubled waves he had lashed into foam.
+Soft, low, and sad as the whispers of the autumn wind, his voice
+murmured in her ear, sad, for it breathed but of parting. She continued
+to weep, but her tears no longer flowed from the springs of agony.
+
+"Mittie!" A sterner voice than that of Clinton's breathed her name.
+"Mittie, you must come in, the night air is too damp."
+
+It was her father who spoke, of whose approach she was not aware. He
+spoke with an air of authority which he seldom assumed, and taking her
+hand, led her into the house.
+
+All the father was moved within him, at the sight of his daughter's
+tears. It was the first time that he had seen them flow, or at least he
+never remembered to have seen her weep. She had not wept when a child,
+by the bed of a dying mother--(and the tears of childhood are usually an
+ever-welling spring)--she had not wept over her grave--and now her bosom
+was laboring with ill-suppressed sobs. What power had blasted the
+granite rock that covered the fountain of her sensibilities?
+
+He entreated her to confide in him, to tell him the cause of her
+anguish. If Clinton had been trifling with her happiness, he should not
+depart without feeling the weight of parental indignation.
+
+"No man dare to trifle with my happiness!" she exclaimed. "Clinton dare
+not do it. Reserve your indignation for real wrongs. Wait till I ask
+redress. Have I not a right to weep, if I choose? Helen may shed oceans
+of tears, without being called to account. All I ask, all I pray for, is
+to be left alone."
+
+Thus the proud girl closed the avenues of sympathy and consolation, and
+shut herself up with her own corroding thoughts, for the transient
+feelings of humility and self-abasement had passed away with the low,
+sweet echoes of the voice of Clinton, leaving nothing but the sullen
+memory of her grief. And yet the hope that he still loved her was the
+vital spark that sustained and warmed her. His last words breathed so
+much of his early tenderness and devotion, his manner possessed all its
+wonted fascination.
+
+A calm succeeded, if not peace.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+    An ancient woman there was, who dwelt
+      In an old gray collage all alone--
+    She turned her wheel the live long day--
+      There was music, I ween, in its solemn drone.
+    As she twisted the flax, the threads of thought
+      Kept twisting too, dark, mystic threads--
+    And the tales she told were legends old,
+      Quaint fancies, woven of lights and shades.
+
+
+It is said that absence is like death, and that through its softening
+shadow, faults, and even vices, assume a gentle and unforbidding aspect.
+But it is not so. Death, the prime minister of God, invests with solemn
+majesty the individual on whom he impresses his cold, white seal. The
+weakest, meanest being that ever drew the breath of life is
+awe-inspiring, wrapped in the mystery of death. It seems as if the
+invisible spirit might avenge the insult offered to its impassive,
+deserted companion. But absence has no such commanding power. If the
+mind has been enthralled by the influence of personal fascination, there
+is generally a sudden reaction. The judgment, liberated from captivity,
+exerts its newly recovered strength, and becomes more arbitrary and
+uncompromising for the bondage it has endured.
+
+Now Bryant Clinton was gone, Mr. Gleason wondered at his own
+infatuation. No longer spell-bound by the magic of his eye, and the
+alluring grace of his manners, he could recall a thousand circumstances
+which had previously made no impression on his mind. He blamed himself
+for allowing Louis to continue in such close intimacy with one, of whose
+parentage and early history he knew nothing. He blamed himself still
+more, for permitting his daughter such unrestricted intercourse with a
+young man so dangerously attractive. He blamed himself still more, for
+consenting to the departure of his son with a companion, in whose
+principles he did not confide, and of whose integrity he had many
+doubts. Why had he suffered this young man to wind around the household
+in smooth and shining coils, insinuating himself deeper and deeper into
+the heart, and binding closer and closer the faculties which might
+condemn, and the will that might resist his sorcery?
+
+He blushed one moment for his weakness, the next upbraided himself for
+the harshness of his judgment, for the uncharitableness of his
+conclusions. The first letter which he received from Louis, did not
+remove his apprehensions. He said Clinton had changed his plans. He did
+not intend to return immediately to Virginia, but to travel awhile
+first, and visit some friends, whom he had neglected for the charming
+home he had just quitted. Louis dwelt with eloquent diffuseness on the
+advantages of traveling with such a companion, of the fine opportunity
+he had of seeing something of the world, after leading the student's
+monotonous and secluded life. Enclosed in this letter were bills of a
+large amount, contracted at college, of whose existence the father was
+perfectly unconscious. No reference was made to these, save in the
+postscript, most incoherent in expression, and written evidently with an
+unsteady hand. He begged his father to forgive him for having
+forgotten--the word _forgotten_ was partially erased, and _neglected_
+substituted in its place--ah! Louis, Louis, you should have said
+_feared_ to present to him before his departure. He threw himself upon
+the indulgence of a parent, who he knew would be as ready to pardon the
+errors, as he was able to understand the temptation to which youth was
+exposed, when deprived of parental guidance.
+
+The letter dropped from Mr. Gleason's hand. A dark cloud gathered on his
+brow. A sharp pain darted through his heart. His son, his ingenuous,
+noble, high-minded boy had deceived him--betrayed his confidence, and
+wasted, with the recklessness of a spendthrift, money to which he had no
+legitimate claims.
+
+When Louis entered college, and during the whole course of his education
+there, Mr. Gleason had defrayed his necessary expenses, and supplied him
+liberally with spending money.
+
+"Keep out of debt, my son," was his constant advice. "In every
+unexpected emergency apply to me. Debt unnecessarily recurred is both
+dishonorable and disgraceful. When a boy contracts debts unknown to his
+parents, they are associated with shame and ruin. Beware of temptation."
+
+Mr. Gleason was not rich. He was engaged in merchandise, and had an
+income sufficient for the support of his family, sufficient to supply
+every want, and gratify every wish within the bounds of reason; but he
+had nothing to throw away, nothing to scatter broadcast beneath the
+ploughshare of ruin. He did not believe that Louis had fallen into
+disobedience and error without a guide in sin. Like Eve, he had been
+beguiled by a serpent, and he had eaten of the fruit of the tree of
+forbidden knowledge, whose taste
+
+    "Brought death into the world,
+    And all our woe!"
+
+That serpent must be Clinton, that Lucifer, that son of the morning,
+that seeming angel of light. Thus, in the excitement of his anger, he
+condemned the young man, who, after all, might be innocent of all guile,
+and free from all transgression.
+
+Crushing the papers in his hand, he saw a line which had escaped his eye
+before. It was this--
+
+     "I cannot tell you where to address me, as we are now on the wing.
+     I shall write again soon."
+
+"So he places himself beyond the reach of admonition and recall,"
+thought Mr. Gleason. "Oh! Louis, had your mother lived, how would her
+heart have been wrung by the knowledge of your aberration from
+rectitude! And how will the kind and noble being who fills that mother's
+place in our affections and home, mourn over her weak and degenerate
+boy."
+
+Yes! she did mourn, but not without hope. She had too much faith in the
+integrity of Louis to believe him capable of deliberate transgression.
+She knew his ardent temperament his convivial spirit, and did not think
+it strange that he should be led into temptation. He must not withdraw
+his confidence, because it had been once betrayed. Neither would she
+suffer so dark a cloud of suspicion to rest upon Clinton. It was unjust
+to suspect him, when he was surrounded by so many young, and doubtless,
+evil companions. She regretted Clinton's sojourn among them, since it
+had had so unhappy an influence on Mittie, but it was cowardly to plunge
+a dagger into the back of one on whose face their hospitable smiles had
+so lately beamed. We have said that she had a small property of her own.
+She insisted upon drawing on this for the amount necessary to settle the
+bills of Louis. She had reserved it for the children's use, and perhaps
+when Louis was made aware of the source whence pecuniary assistance
+came, he would blush for the drain, and shame would restrain him from
+future extravagance. Mr. Gleason listened, hoped and believed. The cloud
+lighted up, and if it did not entirely pass away, glimpses of sunshine
+were seen breaking through.
+
+And this was the woman whom Mittie disdained to honor with the title of
+_mother_!
+
+Helen had recovered from the double shock she had received the night
+previous to Clinton's departure, but she was not the same Helen that she
+was before. Her childhood was gone. The flower leaves of her heart
+unfolded, not by the soft, genial sunshine, but torn open by the
+whirlwind's power. Never more could she meet Arthur Hazleton with the
+innocent freedom which had made their intercourse so delightful. If he
+took her hand, she trembled and withdrew it. If she met his eye, she
+blushed and turned away her glance--that eye, which though it flashed
+not with the fires of passion, had such depth, and strength, and
+intensity in its expression. Her embarrassment was contagious, and
+constraint and reserve took the place of confidence and ingenuousness;
+like the semi-transparent drapery over a beautiful picture, which
+suffers the lineaments to be traced, while the warm coloring and
+brightness of life are chilled and obscured.
+
+The sisters were as much estranged as if they were the inmates of
+different abodes. Mrs. Gleason had prepared a room for Helen adjoining
+her own, resolved she should be removed as far as possible from Mittie's
+dagger tongue. Thus Mittie was left to the solitude she courted, and
+which no one seemed disposed to disturb. She remained the most of her
+time in her own chamber, seldom joining the family except at table,
+where she appeared more like a stranger than a daughter or a sister. She
+seemed to take no interest in any thing around her, nor did she seek to
+inspire any. She looked paler than formerly, and a purplish shade dimmed
+the brilliancy of her dazzling eyes.
+
+"You look pale, my daughter," her father would sometimes say. "I fear
+you are not well."
+
+"I am perfectly well," she would answer, with a manner so cold and
+distant, sympathy was at once repelled.
+
+"Will you not sit with us?" Mrs. Gleason would frequently ask, as she
+and Helen drew near the blazing fire, with their work-baskets or books,
+for winter was now abroad in the land. "Will you not read to us, or with
+us?"
+
+"I prefer being in my own room," was the invariable answer; and usually
+at night, when the curtains were let down, and the lamps lighted in the
+apartment, warm and glowing with the genialities and comforts of home,
+the young doctor would come in and occupy Mittie's vacant seat.
+Notwithstanding the comparative coldness and reserve of Helen's manners,
+his visits became more and more frequent. He seemed reconciled to the
+loss of the ingenuous, confiding child, since he had found in its stead
+the growing charms of womanhood.
+
+Arthur was a fine reader. His voice had that minor key which touches the
+chords of tenderness and feeling--that voice so sweet at the fireside,
+so adapted to poetry and all deep and earnest thoughts. He did not read
+on like a machine, without pausing to make remark or criticism, but his
+beautiful, eloquent commentaries came in like the symphonies of an
+organ. He drew forth the latent enthusiasm of Helen, who, forgetting
+herself and Mittie's withering accusations, expressed her sentiments
+with a grace, simplicity and fervor peculiar to herself. At the
+commencement of the evening she generally took her sewing from the
+basket, and her needle would flash and fly like a shooting arrow, but
+gradually her hands relaxed, the work fell into her lap, and yielding to
+the combined charms of genius and music, the divine music of the human
+voice, she gave herself up completely to the rapture of drinking in
+
+    "Those silver sounds, so soft, so dear,
+    The listener held her breath to hear."
+
+If Arthur lifted his eyes from the page, which he had a habit of doing,
+he was sure to encounter a glance of bright intelligence and thrilling
+sensibility, instantaneously withdrawn, and then he often lost his
+place, skipped over a paragraph, or read the same sentence a second
+time, while that rich mantling glow, so seldom seen on the cheek of
+manhood, stole slowly over his face.
+
+These were happy evenings, and Helen could have exclaimed with little
+Frank in the primer, "Oh! that winter would last forever!" And yet there
+were times when she as well as her parents was oppressed with a weight
+of anxious sorrow that was almost insupportable, on account of Louis. He
+came not, he wrote not--and the only letter received from him had
+excited the most painful apprehensions for his moral safety. It
+contained shameful records of his past deviations from rectitude, and
+judging of the present by the past, they had every reason to fear that
+he had become an alien from virtue and home. Mr. Gleason seldom spoke of
+him, but his long fits of abstraction, the gloom of his brow, and the
+inquietude of his eye, betrayed the anxiety and grief rankling within.
+
+Helen knew not the contents of her brother's letter, nor the secret
+cause of grief that preyed on her father's mind, but his absence and
+silence were trials over which she openly and daily mourned with deep
+and increasing sorrow.
+
+"We shall hear from him to-morrow. He will come to-morrow." This was the
+nightly lullaby to her disappointed and murmuring heart.
+
+Mittie likewise repeated to herself the same refrain "He will come
+to-morrow. He will write to-morrow." But it was not of Louis that the
+prophecy was breathed. It was of another, who had become the one
+thought.
+
+Helen had not forgotten her old friend Miss Thusa, whom the rigors of
+winter confined more closely than ever to her lonely cabin. Almost every
+day she visited her, and even if the ground were covered with snow, and
+icicles hung from the trees, there was a path through the woods, printed
+with fairy foot-tracks, that showed where Helen had walked. Mr. Gleason
+supplied the solitary spinster with wood ready out for the hearth, had
+her cottage banked with dark red tan, and furnished her with many
+comforts and luxuries. He never forgot her devoted attachment to his
+dead wife, who had commended to his care and kindness the lone woman on
+her dying bed. Mrs. Gleason frequently accompanied Helen in her visits,
+and as Miss Thusa said, "always came with full hands and left a full
+heart behind her." Helen sometimes playfully asked her to tell her the
+history of the wheel so long promised, but she put her off with a shake
+of the head, saying--"she should hear it by and by, when the right time
+was at hand."
+
+"But when is the right time, Miss Thusa?" asked Helen. "I begin to think
+it is to-morrow."
+
+"To-morrow never comes," replied Miss Thusa, solemnly, "but death does.
+When his footsteps cross the old stile and tramp over the mossy
+door-stones, I'll tell you all about that ancient machine. It won't do
+any good till then. You are too young yet. I feel better than I did in
+autumn, and may last longer than I thought I should--but, perhaps, when
+the ground thaws in the spring the old tree will loosen and fall--or
+break off suddenly near the root. I have seen such things in my day."
+
+"Oh! Miss Thusa," said Helen, "I never want to hear any thing about it,
+if its history is to be bought so dear--indeed I do not."
+
+"Only if you should marry, child, before I die," continued Miss Thusa,
+musingly, "you shall know then. It is not very probable that such will
+be the case; but it is astonishing how young girls shoot up into
+womanhood, now-a-days."
+
+"It will be a long time before I shall think of marrying, Miss Thusa,"
+answered Helen, laughing. "I believe I will live as you do, in a cottage
+of my own, with my wheel for companion and familiar friend."
+
+"It is not such as you that are born to live alone," said the spinster,
+passing her hand lovingly over Helen's fair, warm cheek. "You are a
+love-vine that must have something to grow upon. No, no--don't talk in
+that way. It don't sound natural. It don't come from the heart. Now _I_
+was made to be by myself. I never saw the man I wanted to live one day
+with--much less all the days of my life. They may say this is sour
+grapes, and call me an old maid, but I don't care for that; I must have
+my own way, and I know it is a strange one; and there never was a man
+created that didn't want to have his. You laugh, child. I hope you will
+never find it out to your cost. But you havn't any will of your own; so
+it will be all as it should be, after all."
+
+"Oh, yes I have, Miss Thusa; I like to have my own way as well as any
+one--when I think I am right."
+
+"What makes your cheeks redden so, and your heart flutter like a bird
+caught in a snare?" cried the spinster, looking thoughtfully, almost
+sorrowfully, into Helen's soft, loving, hazel eyes. "_That step_ doesn't
+cross my threshold so often for nothing. You would know it in an army of
+ten thousand."
+
+The door opened and Arthur Hazleton entered. The day was cold, and a
+comfortable fire blazed in the chimney. The fire-beams that were
+reflected from Helen's glowing cheek might account for its burning rose,
+for it even gave a warmer tint to Miss Thusa's dark, gray form. Arthur
+drew his chair near Helen, who as usual occupied a little stool in the
+corner.
+
+"What magnificent strings of coral you have, Miss Thusa?" said he,
+looking up to a triple garland of red peppers, strung on some of her own
+unbleached linen thread, and suspended over the fire-place. "I suppose
+they are more for ornament than use."
+
+"I never had any thing for ornament in my life," said Miss Thusa. "I
+supply the whole neighborhood with peppers; and I do think a drink of
+pepper tea helps one powerfully to bear the winter's cold."
+
+"I think I must make you my prime minister, Miss Thusa," said the young
+doctor, "for I scarcely ever visit a patient, that I don't find some
+traces of your benevolence, in the shape of balmy herbs and medicinal
+shrubs. How much good one can do in the world if they only think of it!"
+
+"It is little good that I've ever done," cried the spinster. "All my
+comfort is that I havn't done a great deal of harm."
+
+Opening the door of a closet, at the right of the chimney, she stooped
+to lift a log of wood, but Arthur springing up, anticipated her
+movement, and replenished the already glowing hearth.
+
+"You keep glorious fires, Miss Thusa," said he, retreating from the hot
+sparkles that came showering on the hearth, and the magnificent blaze
+that roared grandly up the chimney.
+
+"It is _her_ father that sends me the wood--and if it isn't his daughter
+that is warmed by my fire-side, let the water turn to ice on these
+bricks."
+
+"And now, Miss Thusa," said the young doctor, "while we are enjoying
+this hospitable warmth, tell us one of those good old-fashioned stories,
+Helen used to love so much to hear. It is a long time since I have heard
+one--and I am sure Helen will thank me for the suggestion."
+
+"I ought to be at my wheel, instead of fooling with my tongue," replied
+Miss Thusa, jerking her spectacles down on the bridge of her nose. "I
+shan't earn the salt of my porridge at this rate; besides there's too
+much light; somehow or other, I never could feel like reciting them in
+broad daylight. There must be a sort of a shadow, to make me inspired."
+
+"Please Miss Thusa, oblige the doctor this time," pleaded Helen. "I'll
+come and spin all day to-morrow for you, and send you a sack of salt
+beside."
+
+"Set a kitten to spinning!" exclaimed Miss Thusa, her grim features
+relaxing into a smile--putting at the same time her wheel against the
+wall, and seating herself in the corner opposite to Helen.
+
+"Thank you," cried Helen, "I knew you would not refuse. Now please tell
+us something gentle and beautiful--something that will make us better
+and happier. Ghosts, you know, never appear till darkness comes. The
+angels do."
+
+Miss Thusa, sat looking into the fire, with a musing, dreamy expression,
+or rather on the ashes, which formed a gray bed around the burning
+coals. Her thoughts were, however, evidently wandering inward, through
+the dim streets and shadowy aisles of that Herculaneum of the
+soul--memory.
+
+Arthur laid his hand with an admonishing motion on Helen, whose lips
+parted to speak, and the trio sat in silence for a few moments, waiting
+the coming inspiration. It has been so often said that we do not like to
+repeat the expression, but it really would have been a study for a
+painter--that old, gray room (for the walls being unpainted were of the
+color of Miss Thusa's dress;) the antique, brass-bound wheel, the
+scarlet tracery over the chimney, and the three figures illuminated by
+the flame-light of the blazing chimney. It played, that flame-light,
+with rich, warm lustre on Helen's soft, brown hair and roseate cheek,
+quivered with purplish radiance among Arthur's darker locks--and lighted
+up with a sunset glow, Miss Thusa's hoary tresses.
+
+"Gentle and beautiful!" repeated the oracle. "Yes! every thing seems
+beautiful to the young. If I could remember ever feeling young, I dare
+say beautiful memories would come back to me. 'Tis very strange, though,
+that the older I grow, the pleasanter are the pictures that are
+reflected on my mind. The way grows smoother and clearer. I suppose it
+is like going out on a dark night--at first you can hardly see the hand
+before you, but as you go groping along, it lightens up more and more."
+
+She paused, looked from Arthur Hazleton to Helen, then from Helen to
+Arthur, as if she were endeavoring to embue her spirit with the grace
+and beauty of youth.
+
+"I remember a tale," she resumed, "which I heard or read, long, long
+ago--which perhaps I've never told. It is about a young Prince, who was
+heir to a great kingdom, somewhere near the place where the garden of
+Eden once was. When the King, his father, was on his death bed, he
+called his son to him, and told him that he was going to die.
+
+"'And now, my son,' he said, 'remember my parting words. I leave you all
+alone, without father or mother, brother or sister--without any one to
+love or love you. Last night I had a dream, and you know God's will was
+made known in dreams, to holy men of old. There came, in my dream, an
+aged man, with a beard as white as ermine, that hung down like a mantle
+over his breast, with a wand in his right hand, and stood beside my bed.
+
+"'Hear my words,' he exclaimed, in a solemn voice, 'and tell them to
+your son. When you are dead and gone, let him gird himself for a long
+pilgrimage. If he stay here, he will be turned into a marble statue. To
+avert this doom, he must travel through the world till he finds a young
+maiden's warm, living heart--and the maiden must be fair and good, and
+be willing to let the knife enter her bosom, and her heart be taken
+bleeding thence. And then he must travel farther still, till a white
+dove shall come from the East, and fold its wings on his breast. If you
+would save your kingdom and your son, command him to do this. It is the
+will of the Most High.'
+
+"The old man departed, but his words echoed like thunder in my ears.
+Obey him, my son, the vision came from above.
+
+"The young Prince saw his father laid in the tomb, then prepared himself
+for his pilgrimage. He did not like the idea of being turned into
+marble, neither did he like the thought of taking the heart of a young
+and innocent maiden, if he should find one willing to make the
+offering--which he did not believe. The Prince had a bright eye and a
+light step, and he was dressed in brave attire. The maidens looked out
+of the windows as he passed along, and the young men sighed with envy.
+He came to a great palace, and being a King's son, he thought he had a
+right to enter it; and there he saw a young and beautiful lady, all
+shining with diamonds and pearls. There was a great feast waiting in the
+hall, and she asked him to stay, and pressed him to eat and drink, and
+gave him many glasses of wine, as red as rubies. After the feast was
+over, and he felt most awfully as he did it, he begged for her heart,
+the tears glittering in his eyes for sorrow. She smiled, and told him it
+was already his--but--when with a shaking hand he took a knife, and
+aimed it at her breast, she screamed and rushed out of the hall, as if
+the evil one was behind her--Don't interrupt me, child--don't--I shall
+forget it all if you do. Well, the Prince went on his way, thinking the
+old man had sent him on a fool's errand--but he dared not disobey his
+dead father, seeing he was a King. It would take me from sun to sun to
+tell of all the places where he stopped, and of all the screaming and
+threatening that followed him wherever he went. It is a wonder he did
+not turn deaf as an adder. At last he got very tired and sorrowful, and
+sat down by the wayside and wept, thinking he would rather turn to
+marble at once, than live by such a horrible remedy. He saw a little
+cabin close by, but he had hardly strength to reach it, and he thought
+he would stay there and die.
+
+"'What makes you weep?' said a voice so sweet he thought it was music
+itself, and looking up, he saw a young maiden, who had come up a path
+behind him, with a pitcher of water on her head. She was beautiful and
+fair to look upon, though her dress was as plain as could be. She
+offered him water to drink, and told him if he would go with her to the
+little cabin, her mother would give him something to eat, and a bed to
+lie upon, for the night dew was beginning to fall. He had not on his
+fine dress at this time, having changed it for that of a young peasant,
+thinking perhaps he would succeed better in disguise. So he followed her
+steps, and they gave him milk, and bread, and honey, and a nice bed to
+sleep upon, though it was somewhat hard and coarse. And there he fell
+sick, and they nursed him day after day, and brought him back to health.
+The young maiden grew more lovely in his eye, and her voice sounded more
+and more sweet in his ear. Sometimes he thought of the sacrifice he was
+to ask, but he could not do it. No, he would die first. One night, the
+old man with the long, white beard, came in his dream, to his bedside.
+He looked dark and frowning.
+
+"'This is the maiden,' he cried, 'your pilgrimage is ended here. Do as
+thou art bidden, and then depart.'
+
+"When the morning came, he was pale and sad, and the young girl was pale
+and sad from sympathy. Then the Prince knelt down at her feet, and told
+her the history of his father's dream and his own, and of his exceeding
+great and bitter sorrow. He wept, but the maiden smiled, and she looked
+like an angel with that sweet smile on her face.
+
+"'My heart is yours,' she said, 'I give it willingly and cheerfully.
+Drain from it every drop of blood, if you will--I care not, so it save
+_you_ from perishing.'
+
+"Then the eyes of the young Prince shone out like the sun after a storm,
+and drawing his dagger from his bosom, he--"
+
+"Stop, Miss Thusa--don't go on," interrupted Helen, pale with emotion.
+"I cannot bear to hear it. It is too awful. I asked you for something
+beautiful, and you have chosen the most terrible theme. Don't finish
+it."
+
+"Is there not something beautiful," said the young doctor, bending down,
+and addressing her in a low voice--"is there not something beautiful in
+such pure and self-sacrificing love? Is there no chord in your heart
+that thrills responsive as you listen? Oh, Helen--I am sure _you_ could
+devote yourself for one you loved."
+
+"Oh, yes!" she answered, forgetting, in her excitement, all her natural
+timidity. "I could do it joyfully, glorying in the sacrifice. But he, so
+selfish, so cruel, so sanguinary--it is from him I shrink. His heart is
+already marble--it cannot change."
+
+"Wait, child--wait till you hear the end," cried Miss Thusa, inspired by
+the effect of her words. "He drew a dagger from his bosom, and was about
+to plunge it in his _own_ heart, and die at her feet, when the old man
+of his dream entered and caught hold of his arm."
+
+"''Tis enough,' he cried. 'The trial is over. She has given you her
+heart, her warm, living heart--take it and cherish it. Without love, man
+turns to stone--and thus becomes a marble statue. You have proved your
+own love and hers, since you are willing to die for each other. Put up
+your dagger, and if you ever wound that heart of hers, the vengeance of
+Heaven rest upon you.'
+
+"Thus saying, he departed, but strange to tell, as he was speaking, his
+face was all the time growing younger and fairer, his white beard
+gradually disappeared, and as he went through the door, a pair of white
+wings, tipped with gold, began to flutter on his shoulders. Then they
+knew it was an angel that had been with them, and they bowed themselves
+down to the floor and trembled. Is there any need of my telling you,
+that the Prince married the young maiden, and carried her to his
+kingdom, and set her on his throne? Is there any need of my saying how
+beautiful she looked, with a golden crown on her head, and a golden
+chain on her neck, and how meek and good she was all the time, in spite
+of her finery? No, I am sure there isn't. Now, I must go to spinning."
+
+"That _is_ beautiful!" cried Helen, the color coming back to her
+cheeks, "but the white dove, Miss Thusa, that was to fold its wings on
+his bosom. You have forgotten that."
+
+"Have I? Yes--yes. Sure enough, I am getting old and forgetful. The
+white dove that was to come from the east! I remember it all now:--After
+he had reigned awhile he dreamed again that he was commanded to go in
+quest of the dove, and take his young Queen with him. They were to go on
+foot as pilgrims, and leave all their pomp and state behind them, with
+their faces towards the east, and their eyes lifted to Heaven. While
+they were journeying on, the young Queen began to languish, and grow
+pale and wan. At last she sunk down at his feet, and told him that she
+was going to die, and leave him alone in his pilgrimage. The young King
+smote his breast, and throwing himself down by her side, prayed to God
+that he might die too. Then she comforted him, and told him to live for
+his people, and bow to the will of the Most High.
+
+"'You were willing to die for me,' she cried, 'show greater love by
+being willing to live when I am gone--love to God and me.'
+
+"'The will of God be done,' he exclaimed, prostrating himself before the
+Lord. Then a soft flutter was heard above his head, and a beautiful
+white dove flew into his bosom. At the same time an angel appeared, whom
+he knew was the old man of his dream, all glorified as it were, and the
+moment he breathed on her, the dying Queen revived and smiled on her
+husband, just as she did in her mother's cabin.
+
+"'You were willing to give your own life for hers,' said the angel to
+the young King, 'and that was love. You were willing to give her up to
+God, and that was greater love to a greater being. Thou hast been
+weighed in the balance and not found wanting. Return and carry in thy
+bosom the milk-white dove, and never let it flee from thy dwelling.'
+
+"The angel went up into Heaven--the young King and Queen returned to
+their palace, where they had a long, happy, and godly reign."
+
+The logs in the chimney had burned down to a bed of mingled scarlet and
+jet, that threw out a still more intense heat, and the sun had rolled
+down the west, leaving a bed of scarlet behind it, while Miss Thusa
+related the history of the young Prince of the East.
+
+Helen, in the intensity of her interest, had forgotten the gliding
+hours, and wondered where the day had flown.
+
+"I think if you related me such stories, Miss Thusa, every day," said
+the young doctor, "I should be a wiser and better man. I shall not
+forget this soon."
+
+"I do not believe I shall tell another story as long as I live," replied
+she, shaking her head oracularly. "I had to exert myself powerfully to
+remember and put that together as I wanted to. Well, well--all the gifts
+of God are only loans after all, and He has a right to take them away
+whenever He chooses. We mustn't murmur and complain about it."
+
+"Dear Miss Thusa, this is the best story you ever told," cried Helen,
+while she muffled herself for her cold, evening walk. "There is
+something so touching in its close--and the moral sinks deep in the
+heart. No, no; I hope to hear a hundred more at least, like this. I am
+glad you have given up ghosts for angels."
+
+The wind blew in strong, wintry gusts, as they passed through the
+leafless woods. Helen shivered with cold, in spite of the warm garments
+that sheltered her. The scarlet of the horizon had faded into a chill,
+darkening gray, and as they moved through the shadows, they were
+scarcely distinguishable themselves from the trees whose dry branches
+creaked above their heads. Arthur folded his cloak around Helen to
+protect her from the inclemency of the air, and the warmth of summer
+stole into her heart. They talked of Miss Thusa, of the story she had
+told, of its interest and its moral, and Arthur said he would be willing
+to make a pilgrimage to Mecca, over burning coals, for such a heart as
+the maiden offered to the young Prince. That very heart was throbbing
+close, very close to his, but its deep emotions found no utterance
+through the lips. Helen remarked that she would willingly travel with
+bleeding feet from end to end of the universe, for the beautiful white
+dove, which was the emblem of God's holy spirit.
+
+"Helen, that dove is nestling in your bosom already," cried Arthur
+Hazleton; "but the heart I sigh for, will it indeed ever be mine?"
+
+Helen could not answer, for she dared not interpret the words which,
+though addressed to herself, might have reference to another. With the
+humility and self-depreciation usually the accompaniment of deep
+reverence and devotion, she could not believe it possible that one so
+exalted in intellect, so noble in character, so beloved and honored by
+all who knew him, so much older than herself; one, too, who knew all her
+weaknesses and faults, could ever look upon her otherwise than with
+brotherly kindness and regard. Then she contrasted his manner with that
+of Clinton, for his were the only love-words that ever were breathed
+into her ear, and she was sure that if Clinton's was the language of
+love, Arthur's was that of friendship only. Perhaps her silence chilled,
+it certainly hushed the expression of his thoughts, for he spoke not
+till they reached the threshold of her home. The bright light gleaming
+through the blinds, showed them how dark it had grown abroad since they
+left Miss Thusa's cottage. Helen was conscious then how very slowly they
+must have walked.
+
+"Thank you," said she, releasing herself from the sheltering folds that
+had enveloped her. "Hark!" she suddenly exclaimed, "whose voice is that
+I hear within? It is--it must be Louis. Dear, dear Louis!--so long
+absent!--so anxiously looked for!"
+
+Even in that moment of joy, while bounding over the threshold with the
+fleetness of a fawn, the dreaded form of Clinton rose before the eye of
+her imagination, and arrested for a moment her flying steps. Again she
+heard the voice of Louis, and Clinton was forgotten.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+    "Go, sin no more! Thy penance o'er,
+    A new and better life begin!
+    God maketh thee forever free
+    From the dominion of thy sin!
+    Go, sin no more! He will restore
+    The peace that filled thy heart before,
+    And pardon thine iniquity."--_Longfellow._
+
+
+"I am glad you came _alone_, brother," cried Helen, when, after the
+supper was over, they all drew around the blazing hearth. Louis turned
+abruptly towards her, and as the strong firelight fell full upon his
+face, she was shocked even more than at first, with his altered
+appearance. The bloom, the brightness, the joyousness of youth were
+gone, leaving in their stead, paleness, and dimness, and gloom. He
+looked several years older than when he left home, but his was not the
+maturity of the flower, but its premature wilting. There was a worm in
+the calyx, preying on the vitality of the blossom, and withering up its
+beauty.
+
+Yes! Louis had been feeding on the husks of dissipation, though in his
+father's house there was food enough and to spare. He had been selling
+his immortal birth-right for that which man has in common with the
+brutes that perish, and the reptiles that crawl in the dust. Slowly,
+reluctantly at first, had he stepped into the downward path, looking
+back with agonies of remorse to the smooth, green, flowery plains he had
+left behind, striving to return, but driven forward by the gravitating
+power of sin. The passionate resolutions he formed from day to day of
+amendment, were broken, like the light twigs that grow by the mountain
+wayside.
+
+He had looked upon the wine when it was red, and found in its dregs the
+sting of the adder. He had participated in the maddening excitement of
+the gaming-table, from which remorse and horror pursued him with
+scorpion lash. He had entered the "chambers of death"--though avenging
+demons guarded its threshold. Poor, tempted Louis! poor, fallen Louis!
+In how short a space has the whiteness of thy innocence been sullied,
+the glory of thy promise been obscured! But the flame fed by oxygen soon
+wastes away by its own intensity, and ardent passions once kindled, burn
+with self-consuming rapidity.
+
+We have not followed Louis in his wild and reckless course since he left
+his father's mansion. It was too painful to witness the degeneracy of
+our early favorite. But the whole history of the past was written on his
+haggard brow and pallid cheek. It need not be recorded here. He had
+thought himself a life-long alien from the home he had disgraced, for
+never could he encounter his father's indignant frown, or call up the
+blush of shame on Helen's spotless cheek.
+
+But one of those mighty drawings of the spirit--stronger than chains of
+triple steel--that thirst of the heart for pure domestic joy, which the
+foaming goblet can never quench--that immortal longing which rises up
+from the lowest abysses of sin, that yearning for pardon which stirred
+the bosom of the Hebrew prodigal, constrained the transgressing Louis to
+burst asunder the bonds of iniquity, and return to his father's house.
+
+"I am glad you have come alone, brother," repeated Helen, repressing the
+sigh that quivered on her lips.
+
+"Who did you expect would be my companion?" asked Louis, putting back
+the long, neglected locks, that fell darkly over his temples.
+
+"I feared Bryant Clinton would return with you," replied Helen,
+regretting the next moment that she had uttered a name which seemed to
+have the effect of galvanism on Mittie--who started spasmodically, and
+lifted the screen before her face. No one had asked for Clinton, yet all
+had been thinking of him more or less.
+
+"I have not seen him for several weeks," he replied, "he had business
+that called him in another direction, but he will probably be here
+soon."
+
+Again Mittie gave a spasmodic start, and held the screen closer to her
+face. Helen sighed, and looked anxiously towards her mother. The
+announcement excited very contradictory emotions.
+
+"Do you mean to imply that he is coming again as the guest of your
+parents, as the inmate of this home?" asked Mr. Gleason, sternly.
+
+"Yes, sir," replied Louis, a red streak flashing across his face. "How
+could it be otherwise?"
+
+"But it _shall_ be otherwise," exclaimed Mr. Gleason, rising abruptly
+from his chair, and speaking with a vehemence so unwonted that it
+inspired awe. "That young man shall never again, with my consent, sit
+down at my board, or sleep under my roof. I believe him a false,
+unprincipled, dangerous companion--whom my doors shall never more be
+opened to receive. Had it not been for him, that pale, stone-like,
+petrified girl, might have been brilliant and blooming, yet. Had it not
+been for him, I should not have the anguish, the humiliation, the shame
+of seeing my son, my only son, the darling of his dead mother's heart,
+the pride and hope of mine, a blighted being, shorn of the brightness of
+youth, and the glory of advancing manhood. Talk not to me of bringing
+the destroyer here. This fireside shall never more be darkened by his
+presence."
+
+Mr. Gleason paused, but from his eye, fixed steadfastly on Louis, the
+long sleeping lightning darted. Mittie, who had sprung from her chair
+while her father was speaking, stood with white cheeks and parted lips,
+and eyes from which fire seemed to coruscate, gazing first at him, and
+then at her brother.
+
+"Father," cried Louis, "you wrong him. My sins and transgressions are my
+own. Mountain high as they are, they shall not crush another. Mine is
+the sorrow and guilt, and mine be the penalty. I do not extenuate my own
+offences, but I will not criminate others. I beseech you, sir, to recall
+what you have just uttered, for how can I close those doors upon a
+friend, which have so lately been opened for him with ungrudging
+hospitality?"
+
+Mittie's countenance lighted up with an indescribable expression. She
+caught her brother's hand, and pressing it in both hers, exclaimed--
+
+"Nobly said, Louis. He who can hear an absent friend defamed, without
+defending him, is worthy of everlasting scorn."
+
+But Helen, terrified at the outburst of her father's anger, and
+overwhelmed with grief for her brother's humiliation, bowed her head and
+wept in silence.
+
+Mr. Gleason turned his eyes, where the lightning still gleamed, from
+Louis to Mittie, as if trying to read her inscrutable countenance.
+
+"Tell me, Mittie," he cried, "the whole length and breadth of the
+interest you have in this young man. I have suffered you to elude this
+subject too long. I have borne with your proud and sullen reserve too
+long. I have been weak and irresolute in times past, but thoroughly
+aroused to a sense of my authority and responsibility as a father, as
+well as my duty as a man, I command you to tell me all that has passed
+between you and Bryant Clinton. Has he proffered you marriage? Has he
+exchanged with you the vows of betrothal? Have you gone so far without
+my knowledge or approval?"
+
+"I cannot answer such questions, sir," she haughtily replied, the hot
+blood rushing into her face and filling her forehead veins with purple.
+"You have no right to ask them in this presence. There are some subjects
+too sacred for investigation, and this is one. There are limits even to
+a father's authority, and I protest against its encroachments."
+
+Those who are slow to arouse to anger are slow to be appeased. The flame
+that is long in kindling generally burns with long enduring heat. Mr.
+Gleason had borne, with unexampled patience, Mittie's strange and
+wayward temper. For the sake of family peace he had sacrificed his own
+self-respect, which required deference and obedience in a child. But
+having once broken the spell which had chained his tongue, and meeting a
+resisting will, his own grew stronger and more determined.
+
+"Do you dare thus to reply to _me_, your father?" cried he; "you will
+find there are limits to a father's indulgence, too. Trifle not with my
+anger, but give me the answer I require."
+
+"Never, sir, never," cried she, with a mien as undaunted as Charlotte
+Corday's, that "angel of assassination," when arraigned before the
+tribunal of justice.
+
+"Did you never hear of a discarded child?" said he, his voice sinking
+almost to a whisper, it was so choked with passion.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"And do you not fear such a doom?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"My husband," exclaimed Mrs. Gleason, laying her hand imploringly on his
+shoulder, "be calm. Seek not by violence to break the stubborn will
+which kindness cannot bend. Let not our fireside be a scene of domestic
+contention, which we shall blush to recall. Leave her to the dark and
+sullen secrecy she prefers to our tenderness and sympathy. And, one
+thing I beseech you, my husband, suspend your judgment of the character
+of Clinton till Louis is able to explain all that is doubtful and
+mysterious. He is weary now, and needs rest instead of excitement."
+
+There was magic in the touch of that gentle hand, in the tones of that
+persuasive voice. The father's stern brow relaxed, and a cloud of the
+deepest sadness extinguished the fiery anger of his glance. The cloud
+condensed and melted away in tears. Helen saw them, though he turned
+away, and shaded his face with his hand, and putting her arms round him,
+she kissed the hand which hung loosely at his side. This act, so tender
+and respectful, touched him to the heart's core.
+
+"My child, my darling, my own sweet Helen," he cried, pressing her
+fondly to his bosom. "You have always been gentle, loving and obedient.
+You have never wilfully given me one moment's sorrow. In the name of thy
+beautiful mother I bless thee, and thou shalt be blessed."
+
+The excitement of his feelings gave an exalted tone to his voice and
+words, and as the benediction stole solemnly into her heart, Helen felt
+as if the plumage of the white dove was folded in downy softness there.
+In the meantime Mittie had quitted the room, and Mrs. Gleason drawing
+near Louis, sat down by him, and addressed him in a kind, cheering
+manner.
+
+"These heavy locks must be shorn to-morrow," said she, passing her hand
+over his long, dark hair. "They sadden your countenance too much. A
+night's sleep, too, will bring back the color to your face. You are over
+weary now. Retire, my son, and banish every emotion but gratitude for
+your return. You are safe now, and all will yet be well."
+
+"Oh, mother," he answered, suffering his head to droop upon her
+shoulder, then suddenly lifting it, "I am not worthy to rest on this
+sacred pillow. I am not worthy to touch the hem of your garments, but if
+the deepest repentance--the keenest remorse," he paused, for his voice
+faltered, then added, passionately, "oh, mother--
+
+    'Not poppy, nor mandragora,
+    Nor all the drowsy sirups of the world
+    Can ever medicine me to the sweet sleep'
+
+I once slept beneath this hallowed roof."
+
+"No, my son--but there is a remedy more balmy and powerful than all the
+drugs of the East, which you can obtain without money and without
+price."
+
+Louis shook his head mournfully.
+
+"I will give you an anodyne to-night, prepared by my own hand, and
+to-morrow--"
+
+"Give me the anodyne, kindest and best of mothers, but don't, for
+Heaven's sake, talk of to-morrow."
+
+But whether man speak or be silent, Time, the unresting traveler,
+presses on. Never but once have its chariot wheels been stayed, when the
+sun stood still on the plains of Gibeon, and the moon hung pale and
+immovable over the vale of Ajalon. Sorrow and remorse are great
+prophets, but Time is greater still, and they can no more arrest or
+accelerate its progress than the breath of a new-born infant can move
+the eternal mountains from their base.
+
+Louis slept, thanks to his step-mother's anodyne, and the dreaded morrow
+came, when the broad light of day must reveal all the inroads the
+indulgence of guilty passions had caused. Another revelation must be
+made. He knew his father would demand a full history of his conduct, and
+it was a relief to his burdened conscience, that had so long groaned
+under the weight of secret transgressions, to cast itself prostrate at
+the feet of parental authority in the dust and ashes of humiliation. But
+while he acknowledged and deplored his own vices, he could not
+criminate Clinton. He implored his father to inflict upon him any
+penalty, however severe, he knew, he felt it to be just, but not to
+require of him to treat his friend with ingratitude and insult. His stay
+would not be long. He must return very soon to Virginia. He had been
+prevented from doing so by a fatal and contagious disease that had been
+raging in the neighborhood of his home, and when that subsided, other
+accidental causes had constantly interfered with his design. Must the
+high-spirited Virginian go back to his native regions with the story so
+oft repeated of New England coldness and inhospitality verified in his
+own experience?
+
+"Say no more," said his father. "I will reflect on all you have said,
+and you shall know the result. Now, come with me to the counting-house,
+and let me see if you can put your mathematics to any practical use.
+Employment is the greatest safeguard against temptation."
+
+There was one revelation which Louis did not make, and that was the
+amount of his debts. He dared not do it, though again and again he had
+opened his lips to tell it.
+
+"To-morrow I will do it," thought he--but before the morrow came he
+recollected the words of Miss Thusa, uttered the last time he had
+visited her cabin--"If you should get into trouble and not want to vex
+those that are kin, you can come to me, and if you don't despise my
+counsel and assistance perhaps it may do you good." This had made but
+little impression on him at the time, but it came back to him now
+"_powerfully_" as Miss Thusa would say; and he thought it possible there
+was more meant than reached the ear. He remembered how meaningly, how
+even commandingly her gray eye had fixed itself on him as she spoke, and
+he believed in the great love which the ancient spinster bore him. At
+any rate he knew she would be gratified by such a proof of confidence on
+his part, and that with Spartan integrity she would guard the trust. It
+would be a relief to confide in her.
+
+He waited till twilight and then appeared an unexpected but welcome
+visitor at the Hermitage, as Helen called the old gray cottage. The
+light in the chimney was dim, and she was hastening to kindle a more
+cheering blaze.
+
+"No, Miss Thusa," said he, "I love this soft gloom. There's no need of a
+blaze to talk by, you know."
+
+"But I want to see you, Louis. It is long since we've watched your
+coming. Many a time has Helen sat where you are now, and talked about
+you till the tears would run down her cheeks, wondering why you didn't
+come, and fearing some evil had befallen you. I've had my misgivings,
+too, though I never breathed them to mortal ear, ever since you went off
+with that long-haired upstart, who fumbled so about my wheel, trying to
+fool me with his soft nonsense. What has become of him?"
+
+"He is at home, I believe--but you are too harsh in your judgment, Miss
+Thusa. It is strange what prejudiced you so against him."
+
+"Something _here_," cried the spinster, striking her hand against her
+heart; "something that God put here, not man. I'm glad you and he have
+parted company; and I'm glad for more sakes than one. I never loved
+Mittie, but she's her mother's child, and I don't like the thought of
+her being miserable for life. And now, Louis, what do you want me to do
+for you? I can see you are in trouble, though you don't want the fire to
+blaze on your face. You forget I wear glasses, though they are not
+always at home, where they ought to be, on the bridge of my nose."
+
+"You told me if I needed counsel or assistance, to come to you and not
+trouble my kindred. I am in distress, Miss Thusa, and it is my own
+fault. I'm in debt. I owe money that I cannot raise; I cannot tax my
+father again to pay the wages of sin. Tell me now how you can aid me;
+_you_, poor and lonely, earning only a scanty pittance by the flax on
+your distaff, and as ignorant of the world as simple-hearted Helen
+herself?"
+
+Miss Thusa leaned her head forward on both hands, swaying her body
+slowly backward and forward for a few seconds; then taking the poker,
+she gave the coals a great flourish, which made the sparks fly to the
+top of the chimney.
+
+"I'll try to help you," said she, "but if you have been doing wrong and
+been led away by evil companions, he, your father, ought to know it.
+Better find it out from yourself than anybody else."
+
+"He knows all my misconduct," replied Louis, raising his head with an
+air of pride. "I would scorn to deceive him. And yet," he added, with a
+conscious blush, "you may accuse me of deception in this instance. He
+has not asked me the sum I owe--and Heaven knows I could not go and
+thrust my bills in his face. I thought perhaps there was some usurer,
+whom you had heard of, who could let me have the money. They are debts
+of honor, and must be paid."
+
+"Of _honor_!" repeated Miss Thusa, with a tone of ineffable contempt. "I
+thought you had more sense, Louis, than to talk in that nonsensical way.
+It's more--it's downright wicked. I know what it all means, well enough.
+They're debts you are ashamed of, that you had no business to make, that
+you dare not let your father know of; and yet you call them debts of
+honor."
+
+Louis rose from his seat with a haughty and offended air.
+
+"I was a fool to come," he muttered to himself; "I might have known
+better. The Evil Spirit surely prompted me."
+
+Then walking rapidly to the door, he said--
+
+"I came here for comfort and advice, Miss Thusa, according to your own
+bidding, not to listen to railings that can do no good to you or to me.
+I had been to you so often in my boyish difficulties, and found sympathy
+and kindness, I thought I should find it now. I know I do not deserve
+it, but I nevertheless expected it from you. But it is no matter. I may
+as well brave the worst at once."
+
+Snatching up his hat and pulling it over his brows, he was about to
+shoot through the door, when the long arm of Miss Thusa was interposed
+as a barrier against him.
+
+"There is no use in being angry with an old woman like me," said she, in
+a pacifying tone, just as she would soothe a fretful child. "I always
+speak what I think, and it is the truth, too--Gospel truth, and you know
+it. But come, come, sit down like a good boy, and let us talk it all
+over. There--I won't say another cross word to-night."
+
+The first smile which had lighted up the face of Louis since his return,
+flitted over his lip, as Miss Thusa pushed him down into the chair he
+had quitted, and drew her own close to it.
+
+"Now," said she, "tell me how much money you want, and I'll try to get
+it for you. Have faith in me. That can work wonders."
+
+After Louis had made an unreserved communication of the whole, she told
+him to come the next day.
+
+"I can do nothing now," said she, "but who knows what the morrow may
+bring forth?"
+
+"Who, indeed!" thought Louis, as he wended his solitary way homeward. "I
+know not why it is, but I cannot help having some reliance on the
+promises of this singular old woman. It was my perfect confidence in her
+truth and integrity that drew me to her. What her resources are, I know
+not; I fear they exist only in her own imagination; but if she should
+befriend me in this, mine extremity, may the holy angels guard and bless
+her. Alas! it is mockery for me to invoke them."
+
+The next day when he returned to her cabin, he found her spinning with
+all her accustomed solemnity. He blushed with shame, as he looked round
+on the appearance of poverty that met his eye, respectable and
+comfortable poverty, it is true--but for him to seek assistance of the
+inmate of such a dwelling! He must have thought her a sorceress, to have
+believed in the existence of such a thing. He must have been maddened to
+have admitted such an idea.
+
+"Forgive me, Miss Thusa," said he, with the frankness of the _boy_
+Louis, "forgive me for plaguing you with my troubles. I was not in my
+right senses yesterday, or I should not have done it. I have resolved to
+have no concealments from my father, and to tell him all."
+
+Miss Thusa dipped her hand in a pocket as deep as a well, which she wore
+at her right side, and taking out a well-filled and heavy purse, she put
+it in the hand of Louis.
+
+"There is something to help you a little," said she, without looking him
+in the face. "You must take it as a present from old Miss Thusa, and
+never say a word about it to a human being. That is all I ask of
+you--and it is not much. Don't thank me. Don't question me. The money
+was mine, honestly got and righteously given. One of these days I'll
+tell you where it came from, but I can't now."
+
+Louis held the purse with a bewildered air, his fingers trembling with
+emotion. Never before had he felt all the ignominy and all the shame
+which he had brought upon himself. A hot, scalding tide came rushing
+with the cataract's speed through his veins, and spreading with burning
+hue over his face.
+
+"No! I cannot, I cannot!" he exclaimed, dropping the purse, and
+clenching his hands on his brow. "I did not mean to beg of your bounty.
+I am not so lost as to wrench from your aged hand, the gold that may
+purchase comfort and luxuries for all your remaining years. No, Miss
+Thusa, my reason has returned--my sense of honor, too--I were worse than
+a robber, to take advantage of your generous offer."
+
+"Louis--Louis Gleason," cried Miss Thusa, rising from her seat, her
+tall, ancestral-looking figure assuming an air of majesty and
+command--"listen to me; if you cast that purse from you, I will never
+make use of it as long as I live, which won't be long. It will do no good
+to a human being. What do I want of money? I had rather live in this
+little, old, gray hut than the palace of the Queen of England. I had
+rather earn my bread by this wheel, than eat the food of idleness. Your
+father gives me fuel in winter, and his heart is warmed by the fire that
+he kindles for me. It does him good. It does everybody good to befriend
+another. What do I want of money? To whom in the wide world should I
+give it, but you and Helen? I have as much and more for her. My heart is
+drawn powerfully towards you two children, and it will continue to draw,
+while there is life in its fibres or blood in its veins. Take it, I
+say--and in the name of your mother in heaven, go, and sin no more."
+
+"I take it," said Louis, awed into submission and humility by her
+prophetic solemnity, "I take it as a loan, which I will labor day and
+night to return. What would my father say, if he knew of this?"
+
+"He will not know it, unless you break your word," said Miss Thusa,
+setting her wheel in motion, and wetting her fingers in the gourd. "You
+may go, now, if you will not talk of something else. I must go and get
+some more flax. I can see all the ribs of my distaff."
+
+Louis knew that this was an excuse to escape his thanks, and giving her
+hand a reverent and silent pressure, he left the cabin. Heavy as lead
+lay the purse in his pocket--heavy as lead lay the heart in his bosom.
+
+Helen met him at the door, with a radiant countenance.
+
+"Who do you think is come, brother?" she asked.
+
+"Is it Clinton?" said he.
+
+"Oh! no--it is Alice. A friend of her brother was coming directly here,
+and she accompanied him. Come and see her."
+
+"Thank God! _she_ cannot see!" exclaimed Louis, as he passed into the
+presence of the blind girl.
+
+Though no beam of pleasure irradiated her sightless eyes, her bright and
+heightening color, the eager yet tremulous tones of her voice assured
+him of a joyous welcome. Alice remembered the thousand acts of kindness
+by which he had endeared to her the very helplessness which had called
+them forth. His was the hand every ready to guide her, the arm offered
+for her support. His were the cheering accents most welcome to her ears,
+and his steps had a music which belonged to no steps but his. His image,
+reflected on the retina of the soul, was beautiful as the dream of
+imagination, an image on which time could cast no shadow, being without
+variableness or change.
+
+"Thank God," again repeated Louis to himself, "that she cannot see. I
+can read no reproach in those blue and silent orbs. I can drink in her
+pure and holy loveliness, till my spirit grows purer and holier as I
+gaze. Blessings on thee for coming, sweet and gentle Alice. As David
+charmed the evil spirit in the haunted breast of Saul, so shall thy
+divine strains lull to rest the fiends of remorse that are wrestling and
+gnawing in my bosom. The time has been when I dreamed of being thy guide
+through life, a lamp to thy blindness, and a stay and support to thy
+helpless innocence. The dream is past--I wake to the dread reality of my
+own utter unworthiness."
+
+These thoughts rose tumultuously in the breast of the young man, in the
+moment of greeting, while the soft hand of the blind girl lingered
+tremblingly in his. Without thinking of the influence it might have on
+her feelings, he sought her presence as a balm to his chafed and
+tortured heart, as a repose to his worn and weary spirit, as an anodyne
+to the agonies of remorse. The grave, sad glance of his father; the
+serious, yet tender and pitying look of his step-mother; and the
+pensive, melting, sympathizing eye of Helen, were all daggers to his
+conscience. But Alice could not see. No daggers of reproach were
+sheathed in those reposing eyes. Oh! how remorse and shame shrink from
+being arraigned before that throne of light where the immortal spirit
+sits enthroned--the human eye! If thus conscious guilt recoils from the
+gaze of man, weak, fallible, erring man, how can it stand the consuming
+fire of that Eternal Eye, in whose sight the heavens are not clean, and
+before which archangels bend, veiling their brows with their refulgent
+wings!
+
+It was about a week after the arrival of Louis and the coming of Alice,
+that, as the family were assembled round the evening fireside, a note
+was brought to Louis.
+
+"Clinton is come," cried he, in an agitated voice, "he waits me at the
+hotel."
+
+"What shall I say to him, father?" asked he, turning to Mr. Gleason,
+whose folded arms gave an air of determination to his person, which
+Louis did not like.
+
+"Come with me into the next room, Louis," said Mr. Gleason, and Louis
+followed with a firm step but a sinking heart.
+
+"I have reflected deeply, deliberately, prayerfully on this subject, my
+son, since we last discussed it, and the result is this: I cannot, while
+such dark doubts disturb my mind, I cannot, consistent with my duty as a
+father and a Christian, allow this young man to be domesticated in my
+family again. If I wrong him, may God forgive me--but if I wrong my own
+household, I fear He never will."
+
+"I cannot go--I will not go!" exclaimed Louis, dashing the note on the
+floor. "This is the last brimming drop in the cup of humiliation,
+bitterer than all the rest."
+
+"Louis, Louis, have you not merited humiliation? Have _you_ a right to
+murmur at the decree? Have I upbraided you for the anxious days and
+sleepless nights you have occasioned me? For my blasted hopes and
+embittered joys? No, Louis. I saw that your own heart condemned you, and
+I left you to your God, who is greater than your own heart and mine!"
+
+"Oh, father!" cried Louis, melted at once by this pathetic and solemn
+appeal, "I know I have no right to claim any thing at your hands, but I
+beg, I supplicate--not for myself--but another!"
+
+"'Tis in vain, Louis. Urge me no more. On this point I am inflexible.
+But, since it is so painful to you, I will go myself and openly avow the
+reasons of my conduct."
+
+"No, sir," exclaimed Louis, "not for the world. I will go at once."
+
+He turned suddenly and quitted the apartment, and then the house, with a
+half-formed resolution of fleeing to the wild woods, and never more
+returning.
+
+Mittie, who was fortunately in her room above, (fortunately, we say, for
+her presence would have been as fuel to flame,) heard the quick opening
+and shutting of doors, and the sound of rapid steps on the flag-stones
+of the yard.
+
+"Louis, Louis," she cried, opening the window and recognizing his figure
+in the star-lit night, "whither are you going?"
+
+"To perdition!" was the passionate reply.
+
+"Oh, Louis, speak and tell me truly, is Clinton come?"
+
+"He is."
+
+"And you are going to bring him here?"
+
+"No, never, never! Now shut the window. You have heard enough."
+
+Yes, she had heard enough! The sash fell from her hand, and a pane of
+glass, shivered by the fall, flew partly in shining particles against
+her dress, and partly lay scattered on the snowy ground. A fragment
+rebounded, and glanced upon her forehead, making the blood-drops trickle
+down her cheek. Wiping them off with her handkerchief, she gazed on the
+crimson stain, and remembering her bleeding fingers when they parted,
+and Miss Thusa's legend of the Maiden's Bleeding Heart, she
+involuntarily put her hand to her own to feel if it were not bleeding,
+too. All the strong and passionate love which had been smouldering
+there, beneath the ashes of sullen pride, struggling for vent, heaved
+the bosom where it was concealed. And with this love there blazed a
+fiercer flame, indignation against her father for the prohibition that
+raised a barrier between herself and Bryant Clinton. One moment she
+resolved to rush down stairs and give utterance to the vehement anger
+that threatened to suffocate her by repression; the next, the image of a
+stern, rebuking father, inflexible in his will, checked her rash design.
+Had she been in his presence and heard the interdiction repeated, her
+resentful feelings would have burst forth; but, daring as she was, there
+was some restraining influence over her passions.
+
+Then she reflected that parental prohibitions were as the gossamer web
+before the strength of real love,--that though Clinton was forbidden to
+meet her in her father's house, the world was wide enough to furnish a
+trysting-place elsewhere. Let him but breathe the word, she was ready to
+fly with him from zone to zone, believing that even the frozen regions
+of Lapland would be converted into a blooming Paradise by the magic of
+his love. But what if he loved her no more, as Helen had asserted? What
+if Helen had indeed supplanted her?
+
+"No, no!" cried she, aloud, shrinking from the dark and evil thoughts
+that came gliding into her soul; "no, no, I will not think of it! It
+would drive me mad!"
+
+It was past midnight when Louis returned, and the light still burned in
+Mittie's chamber. The moment she heard his step on the flag-stones, she
+sprang to the window and opened it. The cold night air blew chill on her
+feverish and burning face, but she heeded it not.
+
+"Louis," she said, "wait. I will come down and open the door."
+
+"It is not fastened," he replied; "it is not likely that I am barred out
+also. Go to bed, Mittie--for Heaven's sake, go to bed."
+
+But, throwing off her slippers, she flew down stairs, the carpet
+muffling the sound of her footsteps, and met her brother on the
+threshold.
+
+"Why will you do this, Mittie?" cried he, impatiently. "Do go back--I am
+cold and weary, and want to go to bed."
+
+"Only tell me one thing--have you no message for me?"
+
+"None."
+
+"When does he go away?"
+
+"I don't know. But one thing I can tell you; if you value your peace
+and happiness, let not your heart anchor its hopes on him. Look upon all
+that is past as mere gallantry on his side, and the natural drawing of
+youth to youth on yours. Come this way," drawing her into the
+sitting-room, where the dying embers still communicated warmth to the
+apartment, and shed a dim, lurid light on their faces. "Though my head
+aches as if red-hot wires were passing through it, I must guard you at
+once against this folly. You know so little of the world, Mittie, you
+don't understand the manners of young men, especially when first
+released from college. There is a chivalry about them which converts
+every young lady into an angel, and they address them as such. Their
+attentions seldom admit a more serious construction. Besides--but no
+matter--I have said enough, I hope, to rouse the pride of your sex, and
+to induce you to banish Clinton from your thoughts. Good-night."
+
+Though he tried to speak carelessly, he was evidently much agitated.
+
+"Good-night," he again repeated, but Mittie stood motionless as a
+statue, looking steadfastly on the glimmering embers. "Go up stairs," he
+cried, taking her cold hand, and leading her to the door, "you will be
+frozen if you stay here much longer."
+
+"I am frozen already," she answered, shuddering, "good night."
+
+The next morning, when the housemaid went into her room to kindle a
+fire, she was startled by the appearance of a muffled figure seated at
+the window, with the head leaning against the casement; the face was as
+white as the snow on the landscape. It was Mittie. She had not laid her
+head upon the pillow the whole live-long night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+    "Beautiful tyrant--fiend angelical--
+    Dove-feathered raven!--wolf-devouring lamb--
+    Oh, serpent heart--hid in a flowering cave,
+    Did e'er deceit dwell in so fair a mansion!"--_Shakspeare._
+
+    "Pray for the dead.
+    Why for the dead, who are at rest?
+    Pray for the living, in whose breast
+    The struggle between right and wrong
+    Is raging terrible and strong."--_Longfellow._
+
+
+"Are you willing to remain with her alone, all night?" asked the young
+doctor.
+
+Helen glanced towards the figure reclining on the bed, whose length
+appeared almost supernatural, and whose appearance was rendered more
+gloomy by the dun-colored counterpane that enveloped it--and though her
+countenance changed, she answered, "Yes."
+
+"Have you no fears that the old superstitions of your childhood will
+resume their influence over your imagination, in the stillness of the
+midnight hour?"
+
+"I wish to subject myself to the trial. I am not quite sure of myself. I
+know there is no real danger, and it is time that I should battle
+single-handed with all imaginary foes."
+
+"But supposing your parents should object?"
+
+"You must tell them how very ill she is, and how much she wishes me to
+remain with her. I think they will rejoice in my determination--rejoice
+that their poor, weak Helen has any energy of purpose, any will or power
+to be useful."
+
+"If you knew half your strength, half your power, Helen, I fear you
+would abuse it."
+
+A bright flame flashed up from the dark, serene depths of his eyes, and
+played on Helen's downcast face. She had seen its kindling, and now
+felt its warmth glowing in her cheek, and in her inmost heart. The
+large, old clock behind the door, struck the hour loudly, with its
+metallic hands. Arthur started and looked at his watch.
+
+"I did not think it was so late," he exclaimed, rising in haste. "I have
+a patient to visit, whom I promised to be with before this time. Do you
+know, Helen, we have been talking at least two hours by this fireside?
+Miss Thusa slumbers long."
+
+He went to the bedside, felt of the sleeper's pulse, listened
+attentively to her deep, irregular breathing, and then returned to
+Helen.
+
+"The opiate she has taken will probably keep her in a quiet state during
+the night--if not, you will recollect the directions I have given--and
+administer the proper remedies. Does not your courage fail, now I am
+about to leave you? Have you no misgivings now?"
+
+"I don't know. If I have, I will not express them. I am resolved on
+self-conquest, and your doubts of my courage only serve to strengthen my
+resolution."
+
+Arthur smiled--"I see you have a will of your own, Helen, under that
+gentle, child-like exterior, to which mine is forced to bend. But I will
+not suffer you to be beyond the reach of assistance. I will send a woman
+to sleep in the kitchen, whom you can call, if you require her aid. As I
+told you before, I do not apprehend any immediate danger, though I do
+not think she will rise from that bed again."
+
+Helen sighed, and tears gathered in her eyes. She accompanied Arthur to
+the door, that she might put the strong bar across it, which was Miss
+Thusa's substitute for a lock.
+
+"Perhaps I may call on my return," said he, "but it is very doubtful.
+Take care of yourself and keep warm. And if any unfavorable change takes
+place, send the woman for me. And now good-night--dear, good, brave
+Helen. May God bless, and angels watch over you."
+
+He pressed her hand, wrapped his cloak around him, and left Helen to her
+solitary vigils. She lifted the massy bar with trembling hands, and slid
+it into the iron hooks, fitted to receive it. Her hands trembled, but
+not from fear, but delight. Arthur had called her "dear and brave"--and
+long after she had reseated herself by the lonely hearth, the echo of
+his gentle, manly accents, seemed floating round the walls.
+
+The illness of Miss Thusa was very sudden. She had risen in the morning
+in usual health, and pursued until noon her customary occupation--when,
+all at once, as she told the young doctor, "it seemed as if a knife went
+through her heart, and a wedge into her brain--and she was sure it was a
+death-stroke." For the first time, in the course of her long life, she
+was obliged to take her bed, and there she lay in helplessness and
+loneliness, unable to summon relief. The young doctor called in the
+afternoon as a friend, and found his services imperatively required as a
+physician. The only wish she expressed was to have Helen with her, and
+as soon as he had relieved the sufferings of his patient, Arthur brought
+Helen to the Hermitage. When she arrived, Miss Thusa was under the
+influence of an opiate, but opening her heavy eyes, a ray of light
+emanated from the dim, gray orbs, as Helen, pale and awe-struck,
+approached her bedside. She was appalled at seeing that powerful frame
+so suddenly prostrated--she was shocked at the change a few hours had
+wrought in those rough, but commanding features. The large eye-balls
+looked sunken, and darkly shaded below, while a wan, gray tint, melting
+off into a bluish white on the temples, was spread over the face.
+
+"You will stay with me to-night, my child," said she, in a voice
+strangely altered. "I've got something to tell you--and the time is
+come."
+
+"Yes. I will stay with you as long as you wish, Miss Thusa," replied
+Helen, passing her hand softly over the hoary looks that shaded the brow
+of the sufferer. "I will nurse you so tenderly, that you will soon be
+well again."
+
+"Good child--blessed child!" murmured she, closing her eyes beneath the
+slumberous weight of the anodyne, and sinking into a deep sleep.
+
+And now Helen sat alone, watching the aged friend, whose strongly-marked
+and peculiar character had had so great an influence on her own. For
+awhile the echo of Arthur's parting words made so much music in her ear,
+it drowned the harsh, solemn ticking of the old clock, and stole like a
+sweet lullaby over her spirit. But gradually the ticking sounded louder
+and louder, and her loneliness pressed heavily upon her. There was a
+little, dark, walnut table, standing on three curiously wrought legs, in
+a corner of the room. On this a large Bible, covered with dark, linen
+cloth, was laid, and on the top of this Miss Thusa's spectacles, with
+the bows crossing each other, like the stiffened arms of a corpse. Helen
+could not bear to look upon those spectacles, which had always seemed to
+her an inseparable part of Miss Thusa, lying so still and melancholy
+there. She took them up reverently, and laid them on a shelf, then
+drawing the table near the fire, or rather carrying it, so as not to
+awaken the sleeper, she opened the sacred book. The first words which
+happened to meet her eye, were--
+
+"Where is God, my Maker, who giveth me songs in the night?"
+
+The pious heart of the young girl thrilled as she read this beautiful
+and appropriate text.
+
+"Surely, oh God, Thou art here," was the unspoken language of that
+young, believing heart, "here in this lonely cottage, here by this bed
+of sickness, and here also in this trembling, fearing, yet trusting
+spirit. In every life-beat throbbing in my veins, Thy awful steps I
+hear. Yet Thou canst not come, Thou canst not go, for Thou art ever
+near, unseen, yet felt, an all pervading, glorious presence."
+
+Had any one seen Helen, seated by that solitary hearth, with her hands
+clasped over those holy pages, her mild, devotional eyes raised to
+Heaven, the light quivering in a halo round her brow, they might have
+imagined her a young Saint, or a young Sister of Charity, ministering to
+the sufferings of that world whose pleasures she had abjured.
+
+A low knock was heard at the door. It must be the young doctor, for who
+else would call at such an hour? Yet Helen hesitated and trembled,
+holding her breath to listen, thinking it possible it was but the
+pressure of the wind, or some rat tramping within the walls. But when
+the knock was repeated, with a little more emphasis, she took the lamp,
+entered the narrow passage, closing the door softly after her, removed
+the massy bar, certain of beholding the countenance which was the
+sunlight of her soul. What was her astonishment and terror, on seeing
+instead the never-to-be-forgotten face and form of Bryant Clinton. Had
+she seen one of those awful figures which Miss Thusa used to describe,
+she would scarcely have been more appalled than by the unexpected sight
+of this transcendently handsome young man.
+
+"Is terror the only emotion I can inspire--after so long an absence,
+too?" he asked, seizing her hand in both his, and riveting upon her his
+wonderfully expressive, dark blue eyes. "Forgive me if I have alarmed
+you, but forbidden your father's house, and knowing your presence here,
+I have dared to come hither that I might see you one moment before I
+leave these regions, perhaps forever."
+
+"Impossible, Mr. Clinton," cried Helen, recovering, in some measure,
+from her consternation, though her color came and went like the beacon's
+revolving flame. "I cannot see you at this unseasonable hour. There is a
+sick, a very sick person in the nest room with whom I am watching. I
+cannot ask you to come in. Besides," she added, with a dignity that
+enchanted the bold intruder, "if I cannot see you in my father's house,
+it is not proper that I see you at all." She drew back quickly, uttering
+a hasty "Good-night," and was about to close the door, when Clinton
+glided in, shutting the door after him.
+
+"You must hear me, Helen," said he, in that sweet, low voice, peculiar
+to himself. "Had it not been for you I should never have returned. I
+told you once that I loved you, but if I loved you then I must adore you
+now. You are ten thousand times more lovely. Helen, you do not know how
+charming, how beautiful you are. You do not know the enthusiastic
+devotion, the deathless passion you have inspired."
+
+"I cannot conceive of such depths of falsehood," exclaimed Helen, her
+timid eyes kindling with indignation; "all this have you said to Mittie,
+and far more, and she, mistaken girl, believes you true."
+
+"I deceived myself, alas!" cried he, in a tone of bitter sorrow. "I
+thought I loved her, for I had not yet seen and known her gentler,
+lovelier sister. Forgive me, Helen--love is not the growth of our will.
+'Tis a flower that springs spontaneously in the human heart, of
+celestial fragrance, and destined to immortal bloom."
+
+"If I thought you really loved me," said Helen, in a softened tone,
+shrinking from the fascination of his glance, and the sorcery of his
+voice, "I should feel great and exceeding sorrow--for it would be in
+vain. But the love that I have imagined is of a very different nature.
+Slowly kindled, it burns with steady and unceasing glory, unchanging as
+the sun, and eternal as the soul."
+
+Helen paused with a burning flush, fearful that she had revealed the one
+secret of her heart so lately revealed to herself, and Clinton resumed
+his passionate declarations.
+
+"If you will not go," said she, all her terror returning at the
+vehemence of his suit, "if you will not go," looking wildly at the door
+that separated her from the sick room, "I will leave you here. You dare
+not follow me. The destroying angel guards this threshold."
+
+In her excitement she knew not what she uttered. The words came unbidden
+from her lips. She laid her hand on the latch, but Clinton caught hold
+of it ere she had time to lift it.
+
+"You shall not leave me, by heaven, you shall not, till you have
+answered one question. Is it for the cold, calculating Arthur Hazleton
+you reject such love as mine?"
+
+Instead of uttering an indignant denial to this sudden and vehement
+interrogation, Helen trembled and turned pale. Her natural timidity and
+sensitiveness returned with overpowering influence; and added to these,
+a keen sense of shame at being accused of an unsolicited attachment, a
+charge she could not with truth repel, humbled and oppressed her.
+
+    "A murderous guilt shows not itself more soon
+    Than love that would seem hid."
+
+So thought Helen, while shrinking from the glance that gleamed upon her,
+like blue steel flashing in the sunbeams. Yes! Arthur Hazleton _was_
+cold compared to Clinton. He loved her even as he did Alice, with a
+calm, brotherly affection, and that was all. He had never praised her
+beauty or attractions--never offered the slightest incense to her vanity
+or pride. Sometimes he had uttered indirect expressions, which had made
+her bosom throb wildly with hope, but humility soon chastened the
+emotion which delicacy taught her to conceal. Cold indeed sounded the
+warmest phrase he had ever addressed her, "God bless you, dear, good,
+brave Helen," to Clinton's romantic and impassioned language, though,
+when it fell from his lips, it passed with such melting warmth into her
+heart. Swift as a swallow's flight these thoughts darted through Helen's
+mind, and gave an indecision and embarrassment to her manner, which
+emboldened Clinton with hopes of success. All at once her countenance
+changed. The strangeness of her situation, the lateness of the hour, the
+impropriety of receiving such a visitor in that little dark, narrow
+passage--the dread of Arthur's coming in, and finding her alone with her
+dreaded though splendid companion--the fear that Miss Thusa might waken
+and require her assistance--the vision of her father's displeasure and
+Mittie's jealous wrath--all swept in a stormy gust before her, driving
+away every consideration but one--the desire for escape, and the
+determination to effect it. The apprehension of awaking Miss Thusa, by
+rushing into her room, died in the grasp of a greater terror.
+
+"Let me go," she exclaimed, wrenching her hand from his tightening hold.
+"Let me go. You madden me."
+
+In her haste to open the door the latch rattled, and the door swung to
+with a violence that called forth a groan from the awakening sleeper.
+Turning the wooden button that fastened it on the inside, she sunk down
+into the first seat in her reach, and a dark shadow, flecked with sparks
+of fire, floated before her eyes. Chill and dizzy, she thought she was
+going to faint, when her name, pronounced distinctly by Miss Thusa,
+recalled her bewildered senses. She rose, and it seemed as if the bed
+came to her, for she was not conscious of walking to it, but she found
+herself bending over the patient and looking steadfastly into her
+clouded eyes.
+
+"Helen, my dear," said she, "I feel a great deal better. I must have
+slept a long time. Have I not? Give me a little water. There, now sit
+down close by my bed and listen. If that knife cuts my breath again, I
+shall have to give up talking. Just raise my head a little, and hand me
+my spectacles off the big Bible. I can't talk without them. But how dim
+the glasses are. Wipe them for me, child. There's dust settled on
+them."
+
+Helen took the glasses and wiped them with her soft linen handkerchief,
+but she sighed as she did so, well knowing that it was the eyes that
+were growing dim instead of the crystal that covered them.
+
+"A little better--a little better," said the spinster, looking wistfully
+towards the candle. "Now, Helen, my dear, just step into the other room
+and bring here my wheel. It is heavy, but not beyond your strength. I
+always bring it in here at night, but I can't do it now. I was taken
+sick so sudden, I forgot it. It's my stay-by and stand-by--you know."
+
+Helen looked so startled and wild, that Miss Thusa imagined her struck
+with superstitious terror at the thought of going alone into another
+room.
+
+"I'm sorry to see you've not outgrown your weaknesses," said she. "It's
+my fault, I'm afraid, but I hope the Lord will forgive me for it."
+
+Helen was not afraid of the lonely room, so near and so lately occupied,
+but she was afraid of encountering Clinton, who might be lingering by
+the open door. But Miss Thusa's request, sick and helpless as she was,
+had the authority of a command, and she rose to obey her. She barred the
+outer door without catching the gleam of Clinton's dark, shining hair,
+and having brought the wheel, with panting breath, for it was indeed
+very heavy, sat down with a feeling of security and relief, since the
+enemy was now shut out by double barriers. One window was partly raised
+to admit the air to Miss Thusa's oppressed lungs, but they were both
+fastened above.
+
+"You had better not exert yourself, Miss Thusa," said Helen, after
+giving her the medicine which the doctor had prescribed. "You are not
+strong enough to talk much now."
+
+"I shall never be stronger, my child. My day is almost spent, and the
+night cometh, wherein no man can work. I always thought I should have a
+sudden call, and when I was struck with that sharp pain, I knew my
+Master was knocking at the door. The Lord be praised, I don't want to
+bar him out. I'm ready and willing to go, willing to close my long and
+lonely life. I have had few to love, and few to care for me, but, thank
+God, the one I love best of all does not forsake me in my last hour.
+Helen, darling, God bless you--God bless you, my blessed child."
+
+The voice of the aged spinster faltered, and tear after tear trickled
+like wintry rain down her furrowed cheeks. All the affections of a
+naturally warm and generous heart lingered round the young girl, who was
+still to her the little child whom she had cradled in her arms, and
+hushed into the stillness of awe by her ghostly legends. Helen,
+inexpressibly affected, leaned her head on Miss Thusa's pillow, and wept
+and sobbed audibly. She did not know, till this moment, how strong and
+deep-rooted was her attachment for this singular and isolated being.
+There was an individuality, a grandeur in her character, to which
+Helen's timid, upward-looking spirit paid spontaneous homage. The wild
+sweep of her imagination, always kept within the limits of the purest
+morality, her stern sense of justice, tempered by sympathy and
+compassion, and the tenderness and sensibility that so often softened
+her harsh and severe lineaments, commanded her respect and admiration.
+Even her person, which was generally deemed ungainly and unattractive,
+was invested with majesty and a certain grace in Helen's partial eyes.
+She was old--but hers was the sublimity of age without its infirmity,
+the hoariness of winter without its chillness. It seemed impossible to
+associate with her the idea of dissolution. Yet there she lay, helpless
+as an infant, with no more strength to resist the Almighty's will, than
+a feather to hurl back the force of the whirlwind.
+
+"You see that wheel, Helen," said she, recovering her usual calmness--"I
+told you that I should bequeath it, as a legacy, to you. Don't despise
+the homely gift. You see those brass bands, with grooves in them--just
+screw them to the right as hard as you can--a little harder."
+
+Helen screwed and twisted till her slender wrists ached, when the brass
+suddenly parted, and a number of gold pieces rolled upon the floor.
+
+"Pick them up, and put them back," said Miss Thusa, "and screw it up
+again--all the joints will open in that way. The wood is hollowed out
+and filled with gold, which I bequeath to you. My will is in there, too,
+made by the lawyers where I found the money. You remember when that
+advertisement was put in the papers, and I went on that journey, part
+of the way with you. Well, I must tell you the shortest way, though it's
+a long story. It was written by a lady, on her death-bed, a widow lady,
+who had no children, and a large property of her own. You don't remember
+my brother, but your father does. He was a hater of the world, and
+almost made me one. Well, it seemed he had a cause for his misanthropy
+which I never knew of, for when he was a young man he went away from
+home, and we didn't hear from him for years. When he came back, he was
+sad and sickly, and wanted to get into some little quiet place, where
+nobody would molest him. Then it was we came to this little cabin, where
+he died, in this very room, and this very bed, too."
+
+Miss Thusa paused, and the room and the bed seemed all at once clothed
+with supernatural solemnity, by the sad consecration of death. Death had
+been there--death was waiting there.
+
+"Oh! Miss Thusa, you are faint and weary. Do stop and rest, I pray you,"
+cried Helen, bathing her forehead with camphor, and holding a glass of
+water to her lips.
+
+But the unnatural strength which opium gives, sustained her, and she
+continued her narrative.
+
+"This lady, when young, had loved and been betrothed to my brother, and
+then forsook him for a wealthier man. It was that which ruined him, and
+I never knew it. He had one of those still natures, where the waters of
+sorrow lie deep as a well. They never overflow. She told me that she
+never had had one happy moment from the time she married, and that her
+conscience gnawed her for her broken faith. Her husband died, and left
+her a rich widow, without a child to leave her property to. After a
+while she fell sick of a long and lingering disease, for which there is
+no cure. Then she thought if she could leave her money to my brother, or
+he being dead, to some of his kin, she could die with more comfort. So,
+she put the advertisement in the paper, which you all saw. I didn't want
+the money, and wanted to come away without it, but she sent for a
+lawyer, and had it all fastened upon me by deeds and writings, whether I
+was willing or not. She didn't live but a few days after I got there.
+The lawyer was very kind, and assisted me in my plans, though he
+thought them very odd. There is no need of wasting my breath in telling
+how I had the money changed into gold, and the wheel fixed in the way
+you see it, after a fashion of my own. I would not have touched one cent
+of it, had it not been for you, and next to you, that poor boy, Louis. I
+didn't want any one to know it, and be dinning in my ears about money
+from morning to night. I had no use for it myself, for habits don't
+change when the winter of life is begun. There is no use for it in the
+dark grave to which I am hastening. There is no use for it near the
+great white throne of God, where I shall shortly stand. When I am dead
+and gone, Helen, take that wheel home, and give it a place wherever you
+are, for old Miss Thusa's sake. I really think--I'm a strange, foolish
+old woman--but I really think I should like to have its likeness painted
+on my coffin lid. A kind of coat-of-arms, you know, child."
+
+Miss Thusa did not relate all this without pausing many times for
+breath, and when she concluded she closed her eyes, exhausted by the
+effort she had made. In a short time she again slept, and Helen sat
+pondering in mute amazement over the disclosure made by one whom she had
+imagined so very indigent. The gold weighed heavy on her mind. It did
+not seem real, so strangely acquired, so mysteriously concealed. It
+reminded her of the tales of the genii, more than of the actualities of
+every day life. She prayed that Miss Thusa might live and take care of
+it herself for long years to come.
+
+Several times during the recital, she thought she heard a sound at the
+window, but when she turned her head to ascertain the cause, she saw
+nothing but the curtain slightly fluttering in the wind that crept in at
+the opening, with a soft, sighing sound.
+
+It was the first time she had ever watched with the sick, and she found
+it a very solemn thing. Yet with all the solemnity and gloom brooding
+over her, she felt inexpressible gratitude that she was not haunted by
+the spectral illusions of her childhood. Reason was no longer the
+vassal, but the monarch of imagination, and though the latter often
+proved a restless and wayward subject, it acknowledged the former as
+its legitimate sovereign.
+
+Miss Thusa, lying so rigid and immovable on her back, with her hands
+crossed on her breast, a white linen handkerchief folded over her head
+and fastened under the chin, looked so resembling death, that it was
+difficult to think of her as a living, breathing thing. Helen gazed upon
+her with indescribable awe, sometimes believing it was nothing but
+soulless clay before her, but even then she gazed without horror. Her
+exceeding terror of death was gone, without her being conscious of its
+departure. It was like the closing of a dark abyss--there was _terra
+firma_, where an awful chasm had been. There was more terror to her in
+the vitality burning in her own heart, than in that poor, enfeebled
+form. How strong were its pulsations! how loud they sounded in the
+midnight stillness!--louder than the death-watch that ticked by the
+hearth. To escape from the beatings of "this muffled drum" of life, she
+went to the window, and partly drawing aside the curtain, breathed on a
+pane of glass, so that the gauzy web the frost had woven might melt away
+and admit the vertical rays of the midnight moon. How beautiful, how
+resplendent was the scene that was spread out before her! She had not
+thought before of looking abroad, and it was the first time the solemn
+glories of the noon of night had unfolded to her view. In the morning a
+drizzling rain had fallen, which had frozen as it fell on the branches
+of the leafless trees, and now on every little twig hung pendant
+diamonds, glittering in the moonbeams. The ground was partially covered
+with snow, but where it lay bare, it was powdered with diamond dust. A
+silvery net-work was drawn over the windows, save one clear spot, which
+her melting breath had made. She looked up to the moon, shining so high,
+so lone on the pale azure of a wintry heaven, and felt an impulse to
+kneel down and worship it, as the loveliest, holiest image of the
+Creator's goodness and love. How tranquil, how serene, how soft, yet
+glorious it shone forth from the still depths of ether! What a divine
+melancholy it diffused over the sleeping earth! Helen felt as she often
+did when looking up into the eyes of Arthur Hazleton. So tranquil, so
+serene, yet so glorious were their beams to her, and so silently and
+holily did they sink into the soul.
+
+In the morning the young doctor found his patient in the same feeble,
+slumberous state. There was no apparent change either for better or
+worse, and he thought it probable she might linger days and even weeks,
+gradually sinking, till she slept the last great sleep.
+
+"You look weary and languid, Helen," said he, anxiously regarding the
+young watcher, "I hope nothing disturbed your lonely vigils. I
+endeavored to return, that I might relieve you, in some measure, of your
+fatiguing duty, but was detained the whole night."
+
+Helen thought of the terror she had suffered from Clinton's intrusion,
+but she did not like to speak of it. Perhaps he had already left the
+neighborhood, and it seemed ungenerous and useless to betray him.
+
+"I certainly had no ghostly visitors," said she, "and what is more, I
+did not fear them. All unreal phantasies fled before that sad reality,"
+looking on the wan features of Miss Thusa.
+
+"I see you have profited by the discipline of the last twelve hours,"
+cried Arthur, "and it was most severe, for one of your temperament and
+early habits. I have heard it said," he added, thoughtfully, "that those
+who follow my profession, become callous and indifferent to human
+suffering--that their nerves are steeled, and their hearts
+indurated--but I do not find it the case with me; I never approach the
+bedside of the sick and the dying without deep and solemn emotion. I
+feel nearer the grave, nearer to Heaven and God."
+
+"No--I am sure it cannot be said of you," said Helen, earnestly, "you
+are always kind and sympathizing--quick to relieve, and slow to inflict
+pain."
+
+"Ah, Helen, you forget how cruel I was in forcing you back, where the
+deadly viper had been coiled; in making you take that dark, solitary
+walk in search of the sleeping Alice; and even last night I might have
+spared you your lonely night watch, if I would. Had I told you that you
+were too inexperienced and inefficient to be a good nurse, you would
+have believed me and yielded your place, or at least shared it with
+another. Do you still think me kind?"
+
+"Most kind, even when most exacting," she replied. Whenever her feelings
+were excited, her deep feelings of joy as well as sorrow, Helen's eyes
+always glistened. This peculiarity gave a soft, pensive expression to
+her countenance that was indescribably winning, and made her smile from
+the effect of contrast enchantingly sweet.
+
+The glistening eye and the enchanting smile that followed these words,
+or rather accompanied them, were not altogether lost on Arthur.
+
+Mrs. Gleason came to relieve Helen from the care of nursing, and
+insisted upon her immediate return home. Helen obeyed with reluctance,
+claiming the privilege of resuming her watch again at night. She wanted
+to be with Miss Thusa in her last moments. She had a sublime curiosity
+to witness the last strife of body and soul, the separation of the
+visible and the invisible; but when night came on, exhausted nature
+sought renovation in the deepest slumbers that had ever wrapped her.
+Arthur, perceiving some change in his patient, resolved to remain with
+her himself, having hired a woman to act as subordinate nurse during
+Miss Thusa's sickness. She occupied the kitchen as bed-room--an
+apartment running directly back of the sick chamber.
+
+Miss Thusa's strength was slowly, gently wasting. Disease had struck her
+at first like a sharp poignard, but life flowed away from the wound
+without much after suffering. The greater part of the time she lay in a
+comatose state, from which it was difficult to rouse her.
+
+Arthur sat by the fire, with a book in his hand, which at times seemed
+deeply to interest him, and at others, he dropped it in his lap, and
+gazing intently into the glowing coals, appeared absorbed in the
+mysteries of thought.
+
+About midnight, when reverie had deepened into slumber, he was startled
+by a low knock at the door. He had not fastened it as elaborately as
+Helen had done, and quickly and noiselessly opening it, he demanded who
+was there. It was a young boy, bearing him a note from the family he had
+visited the preceding night. His patient was attacked with some very
+alarming symptoms, and begged his immediate attendance. Having wakened
+the woman and commissioned her to watch during his absence, Arthur
+departed, surprised at the unexpected summons, as he had seen the
+patient at twilight, who then appeared in a fair way of recovery. His
+surprise was still greater, when arriving at the house he found that no
+summons had been sent for him, no note written, but the whole household
+were wrapped in peaceful slumbers. The note, which he carried in his
+pocket, was pronounced a forgery, and must have been written with some
+dark and evil design. But what could it be? Who could wish to draw him
+away from that poor, lone cottage, that poor sick, dying woman? It was
+strange, inexplicable.
+
+Mr. Mason, the gentleman in whose name the note had been written, and
+who fortunately happened to be the sheriff of the county, insisted upon
+accompanying him back to the cottage, and aiding him to discover its
+mysterious purpose. It might be a silly plot of some silly boy, but that
+did not seem at all probable, as Arthur was so universally respected and
+beloved--and such was the dignity and affability of his character, that
+no one would think of playing upon him a foolish and insulting trick.
+
+The distance was not great, and they walked with rapid footsteps over
+the crisp and frozen ground. Around the cabin, the snow formed a thick
+carpet, which, lying in shade, had not been glazed, like the general
+surface of the landscape. Their steps did not resound on this white
+covering, and instead of crossing the stile in front of the cabin, they
+vaulted over the fence and approached the door by a side path. The
+moment Arthur laid his hand upon the latch he knew some one had entered
+the house during his absence, for he had closed the door, and now it was
+ajar. With one bound he cleared the passage, and Mr. Mason, who was a
+tall and strong man, was not left much in the rear. The inner door was
+not latched, and opened at the touch. The current of air which rushed in
+with their sudden entrance rolled into the chimney, and the fire flashed
+up and roared, illuminating every object within. Near the centre of the
+room stood a man, wrapped in a dark cloak that completely concealed his
+figure, a dark mask covering his face, and a fur cap pulled deep over
+his forehead. He stood by the side of Miss Thusa's wheel, which
+presented the appearance of a ruin, with its brazen bands wrenched
+asunder, and its fragments strewed upon the floor. He was evidently
+arrested in the act of destruction, for one hand grasped the distaff,
+the other clinched something which he sought to conceal in the folds of
+his cloak.
+
+Miss Thusa, partly raised on her elbow, which shook and trembled from
+the weight it supported, was gazing with impotent despair on her
+dismembered wheel. A dim fire quivered in her sunken eyes, and her
+sharpened and prominent features were made still more ghastly by the
+opaque frame-work of white linen that surrounded them. She was uttering
+faint and broken ejaculations.
+
+"Monster--robber!--my treasure! Take the gold--take it, but spare my
+wheel! Poor Helen! I gave it to her! Poor child! It's she you are
+robbing, not me! Oh, my God! my heart-strings are breaking! My wheel,
+that I loved like a human being! Lord, Lord, have mercy upon me!"
+
+These piteous exclamations met the ear of Arthur as he entered the room,
+and roused all the latent wrath of his nature. He forgot every thing but
+the dark, masked figure which, gathering up its cloak, sprang towards
+the door, with the intention of escaping, but an iron grasp held it
+back. Seldom, indeed, were the strong but subdued passions of Arthur
+Hazleton suffered to master him, but now they had the ascendency. He
+never thought of calling on Mr. Mason to assist him quietly in securing
+the robber, as he might have done, but yielding to an irresistible
+impulse of vengeance, he grappled fiercely with the mask, who writhed
+and struggled in his unclinching hold. Something fell rattling on the
+floor, and continued to rattle as the strife went on. Mr. Mason, knowing
+that by virtue of his authority he could arrest the offender at once,
+looked on with that strange pleasure which men feel in witnessing scenes
+of conflict. He was astonished at the transformation of the young
+doctor. He had always seen him so calm and gentle in the chamber of
+sickness, so peaceful in his intercourse with his fellow-men, that he
+did not know the lamb could be thus changed into the lion.
+
+Arthur had now effected his object, in unmasking and uncloaking his
+antagonist, and he found himself face to face with--Bryant Clinton. The
+young men stood gazing at each other for a few moments in perfect
+silence. They were both of an ashy paleness, and their eyes glittered
+under the shadow of their darkened brows. But Clinton could not long
+sustain that steadfast, victor glance. His own wavered and fell, and the
+blood swept over his face in a reddening wave.
+
+"Let me go," said he, in a low, husky voice, "I am in your power; but be
+magnanimous and release me. I throw myself on your generosity, not your
+justice."
+
+Arthur's sternly upbraiding eye softened into an expression of the
+deepest sorrow, not unmingled with contempt, on beholding the
+degradation of this splendidly endowed young man. He reminded him of a
+fallen angel, with his glorious plumage all soiled and polluted with the
+mire and corruption of earth. He never had had faith in his integrity;
+be believed him to be the tempter of Louis, the deceiver of Mittie,
+reckless and unprincipled where pleasure was concerned, but he did not
+believe him capable of such a daring transgression. Had he been alone,
+he would have released him, for his magnanimity and generosity would
+have triumphed over his sense of justice, but legal authority was
+present, and to that he was forced to submit.
+
+"_I_ arrest you, sir, in virtue of my authority as sheriff of the
+county," exclaimed Mr. Mason; "empty your pockets of the gold you have
+purloined from this woman, and then follow me. Quick, or I'll give you
+rough aid."
+
+The pomp and aristocracy of Clinton's appearance and manners had made
+him unpopular in the neighborhood, and it is not strange that a man whom
+he had never condescended to notice should triumph in his disgrace. He
+looked on with vindictive pleasure while Clinton, after a useless
+resistance, produced the gold he had secreted, but Arthur turned away
+his head in shame. He could not bear to witness the depth of his
+degradation. His cheek burned with painful blushes, as the gold clinked
+on the table, ringing forth the tale of Clinton's guilt.
+
+"Now, sir, come along," cried the stern voice of the sheriff. "Doctor, I
+leave the care of this to you."
+
+While he was speaking, he drew a pair of hand-cuffs from his pocket,
+which he had slipped in before leaving home, thinking they might come in
+use.
+
+"You shall not degrade me thus!" exclaimed Clinton, haughtily, writhing
+in his grasp; "you shall never put those vile things on me!"
+
+"Softly, softly, young gentleman," cried the sheriff, "I shall hurt your
+fair wrists if you don't stand still. There, that will do. Come along.
+No halting."
+
+Arthur gave one glance towards the retreating form of Clinton, as he
+passed through the door, with his haughty head now drooping on his
+breast, wearing the iron badge of crime, and groaned in spirit, that so
+fair a temple should not be occupied by a nobler indwelling guest. So
+rapidly had the scene passed, so still and lone seemed the apartment,
+for Miss Thusa had sunk back on her pillow mute and exhausted, that he
+was tempted to believe that it was nothing but a dream. But the wheel
+lay in fragments at his feet, the gold lay in shining heaps upon the
+table, and a dark mask grinned from the floor. That gold, too!--how
+dream-like its existence! Was Miss Thusa a female Midas or Aladdin? Was
+the dull brass lamp burning on the table, the gift of the genii? Was the
+old gray cabin a witch's magic home?
+
+Rousing himself with a strong effort, he examined the condition of his
+patient, and was grieved to find how greatly this shock had accelerated
+the work of disease. Her pulse was faint and flickering, her skin cold
+and clammy, but after swallowing a cordial, and inhaling the strong odor
+of hartshorn, a reaction took place, and she revived astonishingly; but
+when she spoke, her mind evidently wandered, sometimes into the shadows
+of the past, sometimes into the light of the future.
+
+"What shall I do with this?" asked Arthur, pointing to the gold, anxious
+to bring her thoughts to some central point; "and these, too?" stooping
+down and picking up a fragment of the wheel.
+
+"Screw it up again--screw it up," she replied, quickly, "and put the
+gold back in it. 'Tis Helen's--all little Helen's. Don't let them rob
+her after I'm dead."
+
+Rejoicing to hear her speak so rationally, though wondering if what she
+said of Helen was not the imagining of a disordered brain, he began to
+examine the pieces of the wheel, and found that with the exertion of a
+little skill he could put them together again, and that it was only some
+slender parts of the machine which were broken. He placed the money in
+its hollow receptacles, united the brazen rings, and smoothed the
+tangled flax that twined the distaff. Ever and anon Miss Thusa turned
+her fading glance towards him, and murmured,
+
+"It is good. It is good!"
+
+For more than an hour she lay perfectly still, when suddenly moving, she
+exclaimed,
+
+"Put away the curtain--it's too dark."
+
+Arthur drew aside the curtain from the window nearest the bed, and the
+pale, cold moonlight came in, in white, shining bars, and striped the
+dark counterpane. One fell across Miss Thusa's face, and illuminated it
+with a strange and ghastly lustre.
+
+"Has the moon gone down?" she asked. "I thought it stayed till morning
+in the sky. But my glasses are getting wondrous dim. I must have a new
+pair, doctor. How slow the wheel turns round; the band keeps slipping
+off, and the crank goes creaking, creaking, for want of oil. Little
+Helen, take your feet off the treadle, and don't sit so close, darling.
+I can't breathe."
+
+She panted a few moments, catching her breath with difficulty, then
+tossing her arms above the bed-cover, said, in a fainter voice,
+
+"The great wheel of eternity keeps rolling on, and we are all bound upon
+it. How grandly it moves, and all the time the flax on the distaff is
+smoking. God says in the Bible He will not quench it, but blow it to a
+flame. You've read the Bible, havn't you, doctor? It is a powerful book.
+It tells about Moses and the Lamb. I'll tell you a story, Helen, about a
+Lamb that was slain. I've told you a great many, but never one like
+this. Come nearer, for I can't speak very loud. Take care, the thread is
+sliding off the spool. Cut it, doctor, cut it; it's winding round my
+heart so tight! Oh, my God! it snaps in two!"
+
+These were the last words the aged spinster ever uttered. The
+main-spring of life was broken. When the cold, gray light of morning had
+extinguished the pallid splendor of the moon, and one by one the objects
+in the little room came forth from the dimness of shade, which a single
+lamp had not power to disperse, a great change was visible. The dark
+covering of the bed was removed, the bed itself was gone--but through a
+snowy white sheet that was spread over the frame, the outline of a tall
+form was visible. All was silent as the grave. A woman sat by the
+hearth, with a grave and solemn countenance--so grave and so solemn she
+seemed a fixture in that still apartment. The wheel stood still by the
+bed-frame, the spectacles lay still on the Bible, and a dark, gray dress
+hung in still, dreary folds against the wall.
+
+After a while the woman rose, and walking on tiptoe, holding her breath
+as she walked, pulled the sheet a little further one side. Foolish
+woman! had she stepped with the thunderer's tread, she could not have
+disturbed the cold sleeper, covered with that snowy sheet.
+
+Two or three hours after, the door opened and the young doctor entered
+with a young girl clinging to his arm. She was weeping, and as soon as
+she caught a glimpse of the white sheet she burst into loud sobs.
+
+"We will relieve you of your watch a short time," said Arthur; and the
+woman left the room. He led Helen to the bedside, and turning back the
+sheet, exposed the venerable features composed into everlasting repose.
+Helen did not recoil or tremble as she gazed. She even hushed her sobs,
+as if fearing to ruffle the inexpressible placidity of that dreamless
+rest. Every trace of harshness was removed from the countenance, and a
+serene melancholy reigned in its stead. A smile far more gentle than she
+ever wore in life, lingered on the wan and frozen lips.
+
+"How benign she looks," ejaculated Helen, "how happy! I could gaze
+forever on that peaceful, silent face--and yet I once thought death so
+terrible."
+
+"Life is far more fearful, Helen. Life, with all its feverish unrest,
+its sinful strife, its storms of passion and its waves of sorrow. Oh,
+had you beheld the scene which I last night witnessed in this very
+room--a scene in which life revelled in wildest power, you would tremble
+at the thought of possessing a vitality capable of such unholy
+excitement--you would envy the quietude of that unbreathing bosom."
+
+"And yet," said Helen, "I have often heard you speak of life as an
+inestimable, a glorious gift, as so rich a blessing that the single
+heart had not room to contain the gratitude due."
+
+"And so it is, Helen, if rightly used. I am wrong to give it so dark a
+coloring--ungrateful, because my own experience is bright beyond the
+common lot--unwise, for I should not sadden your views by anticipation.
+Yes, if life is fearful from its responsibilities, it _is_ glorious in
+its hopes and rich in its joys. Its mysteries only increase its
+grandeur, and prove its divine origin."
+
+Thus Arthur continued to talk to Helen, sustaining and elevating her
+thoughts, till she forgot that she came in sorrow and tears.
+
+There was another, who came, when he thought none was near, to pay the
+last tribute of sorrow over the remains of Miss Thusa, and that was
+Louis. He thought of his last interview with her, and her last words
+reverberated in his ear in the silence of that lonely room--"In the name
+of your mother in Heaven, go and sin no more."
+
+Louis sunk upon his knees by that cold and voiceless form, and vowed, in
+the strength of the Lord, to obey her parting injunction. He could never
+now repay the debt he owed, but he could do more--he could be just to
+himself and the memory of her who had opened her lips wisely to reprove,
+and her hand kindly to relieve.
+
+Peace be to thee, ancient sibyl, lonely dweller of the old gray cottage.
+No more shall thy busy fingers twist with curious skill the flaxen
+fibres that wreath thy distaff--no more shall the hum of thy wheel
+mingle in chorus with the buzzing of the fly and the chirping of the
+cricket. But as thou didst say in thy dying hour, "the great wheel of
+eternity keeps rolling on," and thou art borne along with it, no longer
+a solitary, weary pilgrim, without an arm to sustain or kindred heart to
+cheer, but we humbly trust, one of that innumerable, glorious company,
+who, clothed in white robes and bearing branching palms, sing the great
+praise-song that never shall end, "Allelulia--the Lord God omnipotent
+reigneth."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+    "Come, madness! come unto me senseless death,
+    I cannot suffer this! here, rocky wall,
+    Scatter these brains, or dull them."--_Baillie._
+
+    "I know not, I ask not,
+      If guilt's in thy heart--
+    I but know that I love thee,
+      Whatever thou art."--_Moore._
+
+
+In a dark and gloomy apartment, whose grated windows and dreary walls
+were hung here and there with blackening cobwebs--and whose darkness and
+gloom were made visible by the pale rays of a glimmering lamp, sat the
+young, the handsome, the graceful, the fascinating Bryant Clinton. He
+sat, or rather partly reclined on the straw pallet, spread in a corner
+of the room, propped on one elbow, with his head drooping downward, and
+his long hair hanging darkly over his face, as if seeking to veil his
+misery and shame.
+
+It was a poor place for such an occupant. He was a young man of leisure
+now, and had time to reflect on the past, the present, and the future.
+
+The past!--golden opportunities, lost by neglect, swept away by
+temptation, or sold to sin. The present!--detection, humiliation, and
+ignominy. The future!--long and dreary imprisonment--companionship with
+the vilest of the vile, his home a tomb-like cell in the
+penitentiary--his food, bread and water--his bed, a handful of
+straw--his dress, the felon's garb of shame--his magnificent hair shorn
+close as the slaughtered sheep's--his soft white hands condemned to
+perpetual labor!
+
+As this black scroll slowly unrolled before his spirit's eye, this black
+scroll, on which the characters and images gleamed forth so red and
+fiery, it is no wonder that he writhed and groaned and gnashed his
+teeth--it is no wonder that he started up and trod the narrow cell with
+the step of a maniac--that he stopped and ground his heel in the
+dust--that he rushed to the window and shook the iron bars, with
+unavailing rage--that he called on God to help him--not in the fervor of
+faith, but the recklessness of frenzy, the impotence of despair.
+
+Suddenly a deadly sickness came over him, and reeling back to his
+pallet, he buried his face in his hands and wept aloud--and the wail of
+his soul was that of the first doomed transgressor, "My punishment is
+greater than I can bear."
+
+While there he lies, a prey to keen and unavailing agonies, we will take
+a backward glance at the romance of his childhood, and the temptations
+of his youth.
+
+Bryant Clinton was the son of obscure parents. When a little boy, his
+remarkable beauty attracted the admiration of every beholder. He was the
+pet of the village school, the favorite on the village green. His
+intelligence and grace were equal to his beauty, and all of these
+attributes combined in one of his lowly birth, seemed so miraculous, he
+was universally admitted to be a prodigy--a nonpareil. When he was about
+ten years of age, a gentleman of wealth and high social standing, was
+passing through the town, and, like all strangers, was struck by the
+remarkable appearance of the boy. This gentleman was unmarried, though
+in the meridian of life, and of course, uncontrolled master of all his
+movements. He was very peculiar in character, and his impulses, rather
+than his principles, guided his actions. He did not love his relatives,
+because he thought their attentions were venal, and resolved to adopt
+this beautiful boy, not so much from feelings of benevolence towards
+him, as a desire to disappoint his mercenary kindred. Bryant's natural
+affections were not strong enough to prove any impediment to the
+stranger's wish, and his parents were willing to sacrifice theirs, for
+the brilliant advantages offered to their son. Behold our young prodigy
+transplanted to a richer soil, and a more genial atmosphere. His
+benefactor resided in a great city, far from the little village where he
+was born, so that all the associations of his childhood were broken up
+and destroyed. He even took the name of his adopted father, thus losing
+his own identity. Had Mr. Clinton been a man of pure and upright
+principles, had he been faithful to the guardianship he had assumed,
+and educated his _heart_, as well as his mind, Bryant might have been
+the ornament instead of the disgrace, the blessing instead of the bane
+of society. He had no salient propensities to evil, no faults which
+righteous wisdom might not have disciplined. But indulged, caressed,
+praised and admired by all around him, the selfishness inherent in our
+nature, acquired a hot-bed growth from the sultry moral atmosphere which
+he breathed.
+
+The gentle, yet restraining influence which woman, in her purity and
+excellence, ever exerts, was unfortunately denied him. Mr. Clinton was a
+bachelor, and the careful, bustling housekeeper, who kept his servants
+and house in order, was not likely to burden herself with the charge of
+young Bryant's morals. All that Mr. Clinton supervised, was his progress
+at school, which surpassed even his most sanguine expectations. He was
+still the prodigy--the nonpareil--and as he had the most winning,
+insinuating manners--he was still the favorite of teachers and pupils.
+As he grew older, he was taken much into society, and young as he was,
+inhaled, with the most intense delight, the incense of female adulation.
+The smiles and caresses bestowed upon the boy-paragon by beautiful and
+charming women, instead of fostering his affections, as they would have
+done, had they been lavished upon him for his virtues rather than his
+graces, gave precocious growth and vigor to his vanity, till, like the
+cedar of Lebanon, it towered above all other passions. This vanity was
+only visible to others in an earnest desire to please--it only made him
+appear more amiable and gentle, but it was so strong, so vital, that it
+could not, "but by annihilating, die."
+
+Another fatal influence acted upon him. Mr. Clinton, like most rich
+bachelors, was fond of having convivial suppers, where wine and mirth
+abounded. To these young Bryant was often admitted, for his beauty and
+talents were the pride and boast of his adopted father. Here he was
+initiated into the secrets of the gaming-table, not by practice, (for he
+was not allowed to play himself,) but by observation, a medium of
+instruction sufficiently transparent to his acute and subtle mind. Here
+he was accustomed to hear the name of God uttered either in irreverence
+or blasphemy, and the cold sneer of infidelity withered the germs of
+piety a mother's hand had planted in his bosom. Better, far better had
+it been for him, never to have left his parent's humble but honest
+dwelling.
+
+Just as he was about to enter college, Mr. Clinton suddenly died of a
+stroke of apoplexy, leaving the youth whom he had adopted, exposed to
+the persecutions of his worldly and venal relatives. He had resolved to
+make a will, bequeathing his property to Bryant, as his sole heir; but
+having a great horror of death, he could not bear to perform the act
+which would remind him too painfully of his mortality.
+
+"Time enough when I am taken sick," he would say, "to attend to these
+things;" but the blow which announced the coming of death, crushed the
+citadel of thought. There was no time for making wills, and Bryant was
+left far poorer than his adopted father had found him, for he had
+acquired all the tastes which wealth alone can gratify, and all the
+vices, too.
+
+When he returned, reluctant and disappointed, with alienated feelings,
+to his native home, he found that his father was dead, and his mother a
+solitary widow. By selling the little farm which had served them for a
+support, and restricting herself of every luxury, and many comforts, she
+could defray the expenses of a collegiate education, and this she
+resolved to do. Bryant accepted the sacrifice without hesitation,
+deeming it his legitimate right.
+
+On his way to the university, which was still more remote from his
+native village than that was from the home of his adopted father, he
+conceived the design of imposing upon his new companions the story of
+his Virginian birth--though born in reality in one of the Middle States.
+He had heard so much of Virginian aristocracy, of the pride of tracing
+one's descent from one of the _first families_ of Virginia, that he
+thought it a pardonable deception if it increased his dignity and
+consequence. He was ashamed of his parentage, which was concealed under
+the somewhat patrician name of Clinton, and as he chose to change his
+birth-place, it was not very probable that his real origin would be
+discovered. He had previously ascertained that no boys were members of
+the college, who had ever seen him before, or who knew any thing of the
+region where he had dwelt. He soon became a star-scholar, from the
+brilliancy of his talents, and a favorite, too, from the graceful
+pliancy of his manners, and apparent sweetness of his disposition. But
+with all his grace and sweetness, he was unprincipled and dissolute, and
+exerted the commanding influence he had acquired over the minds of his
+companions, to lead them into temptation, and lure them to sin. Yet he
+had the art to appear himself the tempted, as well as they. His agency
+was as invisible as it was powerful, and as fatal, too. When, with
+seeming reluctance, he took his seat at the gaming-table and won, as he
+invariably did, from his unsuspecting comrades, he manifested the
+deepest regret and keenest remorse. No one suspected that it was through
+his instrumentality they were seduced into error and ruin.
+
+Louis, the impulsive, warm-hearted, and confiding Louis Gleason, was
+drawn as if by fascination towards this young man. There was a luminous
+atmosphere around him, that dazzled the judgment, and rendered it blind
+to his moral defects. Dissipation appeared covered with a golden tissue,
+that concealed all its deformity; and reckless prodigality received the
+honors due to princely generosity.
+
+When Clinton accompanied Louis to his father's house, and beheld the
+beautiful Mittie, gilt, as he first saw her by the rays of the setting
+sun, he gave her the spontaneous homage which beauty ever received from
+him. He admired and for a little time imagined he loved her. But she was
+too easy a conquest to elate his vanity, and he soon wearied of her too
+exacting love. Helen, the shy, child-like, simple hearted Helen, baffled
+and interested him. She shunned and feared him, and therefore he pursued
+her with increasing fervor of feeling and earnestness of purpose.
+Finding himself terribly annoyed by Mittie's frantic jealousy, he
+resolved to absent himself awhile till the tempest he had raised was
+lulled, and urging Louis to be his companion, that he might have a plea
+for returning, departed, as has been described, not to his pretended
+home, but to haunts of guilty pleasure, where the deluded Louis
+followed, believing in his infatuation that he was only walking side by
+side with one sorely tempted, reluctantly transgressing, and as oft
+repenting as himself.
+
+With the native chivalry of his character, he refused to criminate his
+_friend_, and justify his father's anger. It was to Clinton _his debts
+of honor_ were chiefly due, and it was for this reason he shrunk from
+revealing them to his father.
+
+When Clinton found himself excluded from the presence of Helen, whose
+love he was resolved to win, his indignation and mortification were
+indescribable; but acknowledging no obstacles to his designs, he watched
+his opportunity and entered Miss Thusa's cabin, as we have related in
+the last chapter. He was no actor in that interview, for he really felt
+for Helen, emotions purer, deeper and stronger than he had ever before
+cherished for woman. He had likewise all the stimulus of rivalry, for he
+believed that Arthur Hazleton loved her, that calm, self-possessed and
+inscrutable being, whose dark, spirit-reaching eye his own had ever
+shunned. Helen's unaffected terror, her repulsion and flight were
+wormwood and gall to his pampered vanity and starving love. Her
+undisguised emotion at the mention of Arthur, convinced him of his
+ascendency over her heart, and the hopelessness of his present pursuit.
+Still he lingered near the spot, unwilling to relinquish an object that
+seemed more and more precious as the difficulty of obtaining it
+increased. He stood by the window, watching, at times, glimpses of
+Helen's sweet, yet troubled countenance, as the curtain flapped in the
+wintry wind. It was then he heard Miss Thusa relate the secret of her
+hidden wealth, and the demon of temptation whispered in his ear that the
+hidden gold might be his. Helen cared not for it--she knew not its
+value, she needed it not. Very likely when the wheel should come into
+her possession, and she examined its mystery, if the legacy were
+missing, she would believe its history the dream of an excited
+imagination, and think of it no more. He had never stolen, and it did
+seem low and ungentlemanlike to steal, but this was more like finding
+some buried treasure, something cast up from the ocean's bed. It was not
+so criminal after all as cheating at the gaming-table, which he was in
+the constant habit of doing. Then why should he hesitate if opportunity
+favored his design? Mr. Gleason had insulted him in the grossest manner,
+Helen had rejected him, Louis had released himself from his thraldom.
+There was no motive for him to remain longer where he was, and he was
+assured suspicion would never rest on him, though he took his immediate
+departure. The next night he attempted to execute his shameful purpose
+by forging the note, sending it by an unsuspecting messenger, thus
+despatching the young doctor, on a professional errand. Every thing
+seemed to favor him. The woman whom Arthur had commanded to keep watch
+during his absence had sunk back into a heavy sleep as soon as his voice
+died on her ear--so there was nothing to impede the robber's entrance.
+Clinton waited till he thought Arthur had had time to reach the place of
+his destination, and then stole into the sick chamber with noiseless
+steps. Miss Thusa was awakened by a metallic, grating sound, and beheld,
+with unspeakable horror, her beloved wheel lying in fragments at the
+feet of the spoiler. The detection, the arrest, the imprisonment are
+already known.
+
+And now the unhappy young man lay on his bed of straw, in an ignominious
+cell, cursing the gold that had tempted, and the weakness and folly that
+had yielded and rushed into the snare. Louis had visited him, but his
+visit had afforded no consolation. What was pity or sympathy without the
+power to release him? Nothing, yea, worse than nothing. He could not
+tell the hour, for time, counted by the throbs of an agonized heart,
+seems to have the attribute of eternity--endless duration. He knew it
+was night by the lamp which had been brought in with the bread and
+water, which stood untasted by him. He had not noticed the darkening
+shadow stealing over the grated windows, his soul was so dark within. He
+knew, too, that it must be somewhat late, for the lamp grew dimmer and
+dimmer, capped by a long, black wick, with a hard, fiery crest.
+
+He heard the key twisting in the rusted lock, the door swinging heavily
+open, and supposed the jailor was examining the cells before retiring to
+rest. He was confirmed in this belief by seeing his figure through the
+opening, but when another figure glided in, and the jailor retreated,
+locking the door behind him, he knew that his prison had received an
+unexpected guest. He could not imagine what young boy had thought of
+visiting his cell, for he knew not one of the age this youth appeared to
+be. He was wrapped in a dark cloak, so long that it swept the prison
+floor, and a dark fur cap pulled far over the forehead, shaded his face.
+
+Clinton raised himself on his elbow and called out, in a gloomy tone,
+"Who is there?"
+
+The youth advanced with slow steps, gathering up the sweeping folds of
+his cloak as he walked, and sunk down upon the wooden bench placed
+against the damp brick wall. Lifting his hands and clasping them
+together, he bowed his face upon them, while his frame shook with
+imprisoned emotion. The hands clasped over his face gleamed like snow in
+the dim cell, and they were small and delicate in shape, as a woman's.
+The dejected and drooping attitude, the downcast face, the shrouded and
+trembling form, the feminine shame visible through the disguise,
+awakened a wild hope in his heart. Springing up from his pallet, he
+eagerly approached the seeming boy, and exclaimed--
+
+"Helen, Helen--have you relented at last? Do you pity and forgive me? Do
+you indeed love me?"
+
+"Ungrateful wretch!" cried a voice far different from Helen's. The
+drooping head was quickly raised, the cap dashed from the head, and the
+cloak hurled from the shoulders. "Ungrateful wretch, as false as vile,
+do you know me now?"
+
+"Mittie! is it indeed you?" said Clinton, involuntarily recoiling a few
+steps from the fiery glance that flashed through her tears. "I am not
+worthy of this condescension."
+
+"Condescension!" repeated she, disdainfully. "Condescension! Yes--you
+say well. You did not expect me!" continued she, in a tone of withering
+sarcasm. "I am sorry for your disappointment. I am sorry the gentle
+Helen did not see fit to leave her downy bed, and warm room, braving the
+inclemency of the wintry blast, to minister to her waiting lover. It is
+a wondrous pity."
+
+Then changing her accent, and bursting into a strain of the most
+impassioned emotion--
+
+"Oh, my soul! was it for this I came forth alone, in darkness and
+stealth, like the felon whose den I sought? Is it on such a being as
+this, I have wasted such boundless wealth of love? Father, mother,
+brother, sister--all vainly urged their claims upon my heart. It was
+marble--it was ice to them. They thought I was made of stone, granite;
+would to Heaven I were. But you, Clinton; but you breathed upon the
+rock, you softened, you warmed; and now, wretch, you grind it into
+powder. You melted the ice--and having drained the waters, you have left
+a dry and burning channel--here."
+
+Mittie pressed her hand upon her heart, with a gesture of pain, and
+began to traverse wildly the narrow cell; her cloak, which had fallen
+back from her shoulders, sweeping in the dust. Every passion was
+wrestling for mastery in her bosom.
+
+"Why," she exclaimed, suddenly stopping and gazing fixedly upon him,
+"why did you make me conscious of this terrible vitality? What motive
+had you for crossing my path, and like Attila, the destroyer, withering
+every green blade beneath my feet? I had never wronged you. What motive,
+I ask, had you for deceiving and mocking me, who so madly trusted, so
+blindly worshipped?"
+
+"Spare me, Mittie," exclaimed the humbled and convicted Clinton.
+"Trample not on a fallen wretch, who has nothing to say in his defence.
+But one thing I will say, I have not intended to deceive you. I did love
+you, and felt at the time all that I professed. Had you loved me less, I
+had been more constant. But why, let me ask, have you sought me here, to
+upbraid me for my inconstancy? What good can it do to you or to me? You
+call me a wretch: and I acknowledge myself to be one, a vile, ungrateful
+wretch. Call me a thief, if you will, if the word does not blister your
+tongue to utter it. I confess it all. Now leave me to my fate."
+
+"Confess one thing more," said Mittie, "speak to me as if it were your
+dying hour--for you will soon be dead to me, and tell me, if it is for
+the love of Helen you abandon mine?"
+
+Clinton hesitated, a red color flushed his pallid cheek. He could not at
+that moment, in the presence of such deep and true passion, utter a
+falsehood; and degraded as he was, he could not bear to inflict the pain
+an avowal of the truth might cause.
+
+"Speak," she urged, "and speak truly. It is all the atonement I ask."
+
+"My love can only reflect disgrace on its object. Rejoice that it rests
+on her, rather than yourself. But she has avenged your wrongs. She
+rejected me before my hand was polluted with this last foul crime. She
+upbraided me for my perfidy to you, and fled from my sight with horror.
+Had she loved me, I might have been saved--but I am lost now."
+
+Mittie stood immovable as a statue. Her eyes were fixed upon the floor,
+her brow contracted and her lips firmly closed. She appeared to be going
+through a petrifying process, so marble was her complexion, so rigid her
+features, so unchanging her attitude.
+
+    "'Twas but a moment o'er her soul
+    Winters of memory seemed to roll,"
+
+congealing her as they rolled. As Clinton looked upon her and contrasted
+that pale and altered form, with the resplendent figure that he had
+beheld like an embodied rainbow on the sun-gilded arch, his conscience
+stung him with a scorpion sting. He had said to himself, while parlying
+with the tempter about the gold, that he had never _stolen_. He now felt
+convicted of a far worse robbery, of a more inexpiable crime--for which
+God, if not man, would judge him--the theft of a young and trusting
+heart, of its peace, its confidence and hope, leaving behind a cold and
+dreary void. He could not bear the sight of that desolate figure, so
+lately quickened with glowing passions.
+
+"Clinton," said Mittie, breaking the silence in a low, oppressed voice,
+"I see you have one virtue left, of the wreck of all others. I honor
+that one. You asked me why I came. I will tell you. I knew you guilty,
+steeped in ignominy, the scorn and by-word of the town, guilty too of a
+crime more vile than murder, for murder may be committed from the wild
+impulse of exasperated passion--but theft is a cold, deliberate,
+selfish, coward act. Yet knowing all this, I felt willing to brave every
+danger, to face death itself, if it were necessary, to release you from
+the horrid doom that awaits you--to save you from the living grave which
+yawns to receive you. I am willing still, in spite of your alienated
+affection, your perjured vows and broken faith--so mighty and
+all-conquering is even the memory of the love of woman. Here, wrap this
+cloak about you, pull this cap over your brows--your long, dark hair
+will aid the disguise. The jailer will not detect it, or mark your
+taller figure, by this dim and gloomy light. He is sleepy and weary, and
+I know his senses are deadened by brandy; I perceived its burning fumes
+as we walked that close and narrow passage. Clinton, there is no danger
+to myself in this release, you know there is not. The moment they
+discover me, they will let me go. Hasten, for he will soon be here."
+
+"Impossible," exclaimed Clinton, "I cannot consent; I cannot leave you
+in this cell--this cold, fireless cell, on such a night as this. I
+cannot expose you to your father's displeasure, to the censures of the
+world. No, Mittie, I am not worthy of this generous devotion; but from
+my soul I bless you for it. Besides, it would be all in vain. A
+discovery would be inevitable."
+
+"Escape would be certain," she cried, with increasing energy. "I marked
+that jailer well--his senses are too much blunted for the exercise of
+clear perception. You are slender and not very tall; your face is as
+fair as mine, your hair of the same color. If you refuse, I will seek a
+colder couch than that pallet of straw; I will pass the night under the
+leafless trees, and my pillow shall be the snowy ground. As for my
+father's displeasure, I have incurred it already. As for the censures of
+the world, I scorn them. What do you call the world? This village, this
+town, this little, narrow sphere? I live in a world of my own, as high
+above it as the heavens are above the earth."
+
+Clinton's opposition weakened before her commanding energy. The hope of
+freedom kindled in his breast, and lighted up his countenance.
+
+"But you," said he, irresolutely, "even if you could endure the horrors
+of the night, cannot be concealed on his entrance. How can you pass for
+me?" he cried, looking down on her woman's apparel, for she had thrown
+the cloak over his arm, and stood in her own flowing robes.
+
+"I will throw myself on the pallet, and draw the blankets over me. My
+sable locks," gathering them back in her hand, for they hung loosely
+round her face--"are almost the counterpart of yours. I can conceal
+their length thus." Untying the scarf which passed over her shoulders
+and encircled her waist, she folded it over her flowing hair. "When the
+blanket is over me," she added, "I shall escape detection. Hasten! Think
+of the long years of imprisonment, the solitary dungeon, the clanking
+chains, the iron that will daily enter your soul. Think of all this, and
+fly! Hark! I hear footsteps in the passage. Don't you hear them? My God!
+it will be too late!"
+
+Seizing the cloak, she threw it over his shoulders, snatched up the cap,
+and put it upon his head, which involuntarily bent to receive it, and
+wildly tearing herself from the arms that wrapped her in a parting
+embrace, sprang to the pallet, and shrouded herself in the dismal folds
+from which Clinton had shrunk in disgust.
+
+Clinton drew near the door. It opened, and Arthur Hazleton entered the
+cell. The jailer stood on the outside, fumbling at the lock, turning the
+massy key backward and forward, making a harsh, creaking sound. His head
+was bent close to the lock, in which there appeared to be some
+impediment. The noise which he made with the grating key, the stooping
+position he had assumed, favored the escape of Clinton.
+
+As Arthur entered, he glided out, unperceived by him, for the jailer had
+brought no light, and the prisoner was standing in the shadow of the
+wall.
+
+"There," grumbled the jailer, "I believe that will do--I must have this
+lock fixed to-morrow. Here, doctor, take the key, I can trust _you_, I
+know. When you are ready to go, drop it in my room, just underneath
+this. I mean drop in, and give it to me, I am sick to-night. I am
+obliged to go to bed."
+
+Arthur assured him that he would attend faithfully to his directions,
+and that he might retire in perfect security. Then locking the door
+within, he walked towards the pallet, where the supposed form of the
+prisoner lay, in the stillness of dissembled sleep. His face was turned
+towards the straw, the bed cover was drawn up over his neck, nothing was
+distinctly visible in the obscurity but a mass of dark, gleaming hair,
+reflecting back the dim light from its jetty mirror.
+
+Arthur did not like to banish from his couch, that
+
+    "Friend to the wretch, whom every friend forsakes."
+
+He seated himself on the bench, folded his cloak around him, and awaited
+in silence the awakening of the prisoner. He had come, in obedience to
+the commands of his Divine Master, to visit those who are in prison, and
+minister unto them. Not as Mittie had done, to assist him in eluding the
+just penalty of the offended majesty of the laws. He did not believe the
+perpetrator of such a crime as Clinton's entitled to pardon, but he
+looked upon every son of Adam as a brother, and as such an object of
+pity and kindness.
+
+While he sat gazing on the pallet, watching for the first motion that
+would indicate the dispersion of slumber, he heard a cough issuing from
+it, which his practiced ear at once recognized as proceeding from a
+woman's lungs. A suspicion of the truth flashed into his mind. He rose,
+bent over the couch, and taking hold of the covering, endeavored to draw
+it back from the face it shrouded. He could see the white hands that
+clinched it, and a tress of long, waving hair, loosened by the motion,
+floated on his sight.
+
+"Mittie--Mittie Gleason!" he exclaimed, bending on one knee, and trying
+to raise her--"how came you here? Yet, why do I ask? I know but too
+well--Clinton has escaped--and you--"
+
+"_I am here!_" she cried, starting to her feet, and shaking back her
+hair, which fell in a sable mantle over her shoulders, flowing far below
+the waist. "I am here. What do you wish of me? I am not prepared to
+receive company just yet," she added, deridingly; "my room is rather
+unfurnished."
+
+She looked so wild and unnatural, her tone was so mocking, her glance so
+defying, Arthur began to fear that her reason was disordered. Fever was
+burning on her cheeks, and it might be the fire of delirium that
+sparkled in her eyes. He took her hand very gently, and tried to count
+the beatings of her pulse, but she snatched it from him with violence,
+and commanded him to leave her.
+
+"This is my sanctuary," she cried. "You have no right to intrude into
+it. Begone!--I will be alone."
+
+"Mittie, I will not leave you here--you must return with me to your
+father's house. Think of the obloquy you may incur by remaining. Come,
+before another enters."
+
+"If I go, _you_ will be suspected of releasing the prisoner, and suffer
+the penalty due for such an act. No, no, I have braved all consequences,
+and I dare to meet them."
+
+"Then I leave you to inform the jailer of the flight of the prisoner. It
+is my duty."
+
+"You will not do so mean and unmanly a deed!" springing between him and
+the door, and pressing her back against it. "You will not basely inform
+of him whom a young girl has had the courage to release. _You_--a man,
+will not do it. _Will you?_"
+
+"An act of justice is never base or cowardly. Clinton is a convicted
+thief, and deserves the doom impending over such transgressors. He is an
+unprincipled and profligate young man, and unworthy the love of a
+pure-hearted woman. He has tempted your brother from the paths of
+virtue, repaid your confidence with the coldest treachery, violated the
+laws of God and man, and yet, unparalleled infatuation--you love him
+still, and expose yourself to slander and disgrace for his sake."
+
+He spoke sternly, commandingly. He had tried reason and persuasion, he
+now spoke with authority, but it was equally in vain.
+
+"Who told you that I love him?" she repeated. "'Tis false. I hate him. I
+hate him!" she again repeated, but her lips quivered, and her voice
+choked.
+
+Arthur hailed this symptom of sensibility as a favorable omen. He had
+never intended to inform the jailer of Clinton's escape. He would not be
+instrumental to such an event himself, knowing, as he did, his guilt,
+but since it had been effected by another, he could not help rejoicing
+in heart. Perhaps Clinton might profit by this bitter lesson, and
+"reformation glittering over his faults"--efface by its lustre the dark
+stain upon his name. And while he condemned the rashness and mourned for
+the misguided feelings of Mittie, he could not repress an involuntary
+thrill of admiration for her deep, self-sacrificing love. What a pity
+that a passion so sublime in its strength and despair should be
+inspired by a being so unworthy.
+
+"Will you not let me pass?" said he.
+
+"Never, for such a purpose."
+
+"I disclaim it altogether, I never intended to put in execution the
+threat I breathed. It was to induce you to leave this horrible place
+that I uttered it. I am ashamed of the subterfuge, though the motive was
+pure. Mittie, I entreat you to come with me; I entreat you with the
+sincerity of a friend, the earnestness of a brother. I will never
+breathe to a human being the mystery of Clinton's escape. I will guard
+your reputation with the most jealous vigilance. Not even my blind Alice
+shall be considered a more sacred trust than you, if you confide
+yourself to my protecting care."
+
+"Are you indeed my friend?" she asked, in a softened voice, with a
+remarkable change in the expression of her countenance. "I thought you
+hated me."
+
+"Hated you! What a suspicion!"
+
+"You have always been cold and distant--never sought my friendship, or
+manifested for me the least regard. When I was but a child, and you
+first visited our family, I was attracted towards you, less by your
+gentle manners than your strong, controlling will. Had you shown as much
+interest in me as you did in Helen, you might have had a wondrous
+influence on my character. You might have saved me from that which is
+destroying me. But it is all past. You slighted me, and lavished all
+your care on Helen. Every one cared for Helen more than me, and my heart
+grew colder and colder to her and all who loved her. What I have since
+felt, and why I have felt it for others, God only knows. Others! Why
+should I say others? There never was but one--and that one, the false
+felon, whom I once believed an angel of light. And he, even he has
+thrown my heart back bleeding at my feet, for the love he bears to
+Helen."
+
+"Which Helen values not," said the young doctor, half in assertion and
+half in interrogation.
+
+"No, no," she replied, "a counter influence has saved her from the
+misery and shame."
+
+Mittie paused, clasped her hands together, and pressed them tightly on
+her bosom.
+
+"Oh!" she exclaimed, "it is no metaphor, when they talk of arrows
+piercing the breast. I feel them here."
+
+Her countenance expressed physical suffering as well as mental agony.
+She shivered with cold one moment, the next glowed with feverish heat.
+
+Arthur took off his cloak, and folded it round her, and she offered no
+resistance. She was sinking into that passive state, which often
+succeeds too high-wrought emotion.
+
+"You are very kind," said she, "but _you_ will suffer."
+
+"No--I am accustomed to brave the elements. But if you think I suffer,
+let us hasten to a warmer region. Give me your hand."
+
+Firmly grasping it, he extinguished the lamp, and in total darkness they
+left the cell, groped through the long, narrow passage, down the winding
+stairs, at the foot of which was the jailer's room. Arthur was familiar
+with this gloomy dwelling, so often had he visited it on errands of
+mercy and compassion. It was not the first time he had been entrusted
+with the key of the cells, though he suspected that it would be the
+last. The keeper, only half awakened, received the key, locked his own
+door, and went back to his bed, muttering that "there were not many men
+to be trusted, but the young doctor was one."
+
+When Arthur and Mittie emerged from the dark prison-house into the
+clear, still moonlight, (for the moon had risen, and over the night had
+thrown a veil of silvery gauze,) Arthur's excited spirit subsided into
+peace, beneath its pale, celestial glory. Mittie thought of the
+fugitive, and shrunk from the beams that might betray his flight. The
+sudden barking of the watch-dog made her tremble. Even their own shadows
+on the white, frozen ground, she mistook for the avengers of crime, in
+the act of pursuit.
+
+"What shall we do?" said Arthur, when, having arrived at Mr. Gleason's
+door, they found it fastened. "I wish you could enter unobserved."
+
+Mittie's solitary habits made her departure easy, and her absence
+unsuspected, but she could not steal in through the bolts and locks that
+impeded her admission.
+
+"No matter," she cried, "leave me here--I will lie down by the
+threshold, and wait the morning. All places are alike to me."
+
+Louis, whose chamber was opposite to Mittie's, in the front part of the
+house, and who now had many a sleepless night, heard voices in the
+portico, and opening the window, demanded "who was there?"
+
+"Come down softly and open the door," said Arthur, "I wish to speak to
+you."
+
+Louis hastily descended, and unlocked the door.
+
+His astonishment, on seeing his sister with Arthur Hazleton, at that
+hour, when he supposed her in her own room, was so great that he held
+the door in his hand, without speaking or offering to admit them.
+
+"Let us in as noiselessly as possible," said Arthur. "Take her directly
+to her chamber, kindle a fire, give her a generous glass of Port wine,
+and question her not to-night. Let no servant be roused. Wait upon her
+yourself, and be silent on the morrow. Good-night."
+
+"It is too bright," whispered she, as Louis half carried her up stairs,
+stepping over the checker-work the moon made on the carpet.
+
+"What is too bright, Mittie?"
+
+"Nothing. Make haste--I am very cold."
+
+Louis led Mittie to a chair, then lighting a candle, he knelt down and
+gathered together the still smoking brands. A bright fire soon blazed on
+the hearth, and illuminated the apartment.
+
+"Now for the wine," said he.
+
+"He is gone, Louis," said she, laying her hand on his arm. "He is fled.
+I released him. Was it not noble in me, when he loves Helen, and he a
+thief, too?"
+
+Louis thought she spoke very strangely, and he looked earnestly at her
+glittering eyes.
+
+"I am glad of it!" he exclaimed--"he is a villain, but I am glad he is
+escaped. But you, Mittie--you should not have done this. How could you
+do it? Did Arthur Hazleton help you?"
+
+"Oh, no! I did it very easily--I gave him your cloak and cap. You must
+not be angry, you shall have new ones. They fitted him very nicely. He
+would run faster, if my heart-strings did not get tangled round his
+feet, all bleeding, too. Don't you remember, Miss Thusa told you about
+it, long ago?"
+
+"My God, Mittie! what makes you talk in that way? Don't talk so. Don't
+look so. For Heaven's sake, don't look so wild."
+
+"I can't help it, Louis," said she, pressing her hands on the top of her
+head, "I feel so strange here. I do believe I'm mad."
+
+She was indeed delirious. The fever which for many days had been burning
+in her veins, now lighted its flames in her brain, and raged for more
+than a week with increasing violence.
+
+She did not know, while she lay tossing in delirious agony, that the
+fugitive, Clinton, had been overtaken, and brought back in chains to a
+more hopeless, because doubly guarded captivity.
+
+Justice triumphed over love.
+
+He who sows the wind, must expect to reap the whirlwind.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+    "High minds of native pride and force,
+    Most deeply feel thy pangs, remorse."--_Scott._
+
+    "Lord, at Thy feet ashamed I lie,
+      Upward I dare not look--
+    Pardon my sins before I die,
+      And blot them from Thy book."--_Hymn._
+
+
+When Mittie awoke from the wild dream of delirium, she was weak as a
+new-born infant. For a few moments she imagined herself the inhabitant
+of another world. The deep quietude of the apartment, its soft, subdued,
+slumberous light, the still, watching figures seated by her bedside,
+formed so strong a contrast to the gloomy cell, with its chill, damp
+air, and glimmering lamp--its rough keeper and agitated inmate--that
+cell which, it appeared to her, she had just quitted. Two fair young
+forms, with arms interlaced, and heads inclined towards each other, the
+one with locks of rippling gold, the other of soft, wavy brown, seemed
+watching angels to her unclosing eyes. She felt a soft pressure on her
+faintly throbbing pulse, and knew that on the other side, opposite the
+watching angels, a manly figure was bending over her. She could not turn
+her head to gaze upon it, but there was a benignity in its presence
+which soothed and comforted her. Other forms were there also, but they
+faded away in a soft, hazy atmosphere, and her drooping eye-lids again
+closed.
+
+In the long, tranquil slumber that followed, she passed the crisis of
+her disease, and the strife-worn, wandering spirit returned to the
+throne it had abdicated.
+
+And now Mittie became conscious of the unbounded tenderness and care
+lavished upon her by every member of the household, and of the
+unwearied attentions of Arthur Hazleton. Helen herself could not have
+been more kindly, anxiously nursed. She, who had believed herself an
+object of indifference or dislike to all, was the central point of
+solicitude now. If she slept, every one moved as if shod with velvet,
+the curtains were gently let down, all occupation suspended, lest it
+should disturb the pale slumberer;--if she waked, some kind hand was
+ever ready to smooth her pillow, wipe the dew of weakness from her brow,
+and administer the cordial to her wan lips.
+
+"Why do you all nurse me so tenderly?" asked she of her step-mother, one
+night, when she was watching by her. "Me, who have never done any thing
+for others?"
+
+"You are sick and helpless, and dependent on our care. The hand of God
+is laid upon you, and whosoever He smites, becomes a sacred object in
+the Christian's eyes."
+
+"Then it is not from love you minister to my weakness. I thought it
+could not be."
+
+"Yes, Mittie. It is from love. We always love those who depend on us for
+life. Your sufferings have been great, and great is our sympathy. Pity,
+sympathy, tenderness, all flow towards you, and no remembrance of the
+past mingles bitterness with their balm."
+
+"But, mother, I do not wish to live. It were far kinder to let me die."
+
+It was the first time Mittie had ever addressed her thus. The name
+seemed to glide unconsciously from her lips, breathed by her softened
+spirit.
+
+Mrs. Gleason was moved even to tears. She felt repaid for all her
+forbearance, all her trials, by the utterance of this one little word,
+so long and so ungratefully withheld. Bending forward, with an
+involuntary movement, she kissed the faded lips, which, when rosy with
+health, had always repelled her maternal caresses. She felt the feeble
+arm of the invalid pass round her neck, and draw her still closer. She
+felt, too, tears which did not _all_ flow from her own eyes moisten her
+cheek.
+
+"I do not wish to live, mother," repeated Mittie, after this ebullition
+of sensibility had subsided. "I can never again be happy. I never can
+make others happy. I am willing to die. Every time I close my eyes I
+pray that my sleep may be death, my bed my grave."
+
+"Ah! my child, pray not for death because you have been saved from the
+curse of a granted prayer. Pray rather that you may live to atone by a
+life of meekness and humility for past errors. You ought not to be
+willing to die with so great a purpose unaccomplished, since God does
+not now _will_ you to depart. You mistake physical debility for
+resignation, weariness of life for desire for heaven. Oh, Mittie, not in
+the sackcloth and ashes of _selfish_ sorrow should the spirit be clothed
+to meet its God."
+
+Mittie lay for some time without speaking, then lifting her melancholy
+black eyes, once so haughty and brilliant, she said--
+
+"I will tell you why I wish to die. I am now humbled and
+subdued--conscious and ashamed of my errors, grateful for your
+unexampled goodness. If I die now, you will shed some tears over my
+grave, and perhaps say, 'Poor girl! she was so young, and so unhappy--we
+remember her faults only to forgive them.' But if I live to be strong
+and healthy as I have been before, I fear my heart will harden, and my
+evil temper recover all its terrible power. It seems to me now as if I
+had been possessed by one of those fiends which we read of in the Bible,
+which tore and rent the bosom that they entered. It is not cast out--it
+only sleeps--and I fear--oh!--I dread its wakening."
+
+"Oh, Mittie, only cry, 'Thou Son of David, have mercy on me--' only cry
+out, from the depths of a contrite spirit--and it will depart, though
+its name be legion."
+
+"But I fear this contrition may be transitory. I do pray, I do cry out
+for mercy now, but to-morrow my heart may harden into stone. You, who
+are so perfect and pious, think it easy to be good, and so it is, on a
+sick bed--when gentle, watching eyes and stilly steps are round you, and
+the air you breathe is embalmed with blessings. With returning health
+the bosom strife will begin. Your thoughts will no longer centre on me.
+Helen will once more absorb your affections, and then the serpent envy
+will come gliding back, so cold and venomous, to coil itself in my
+heart."
+
+"My child--there is room enough in the world, room enough in our
+hearts, and room enough in Heaven, for you and Helen too."
+
+She spoke with solemnity, and she continued to speak soothingly and
+persuasively till the eyes of the invalid were closed in slumber, and
+then her thoughts rose in silent prayer for that sin-sick and life-weary
+soul.
+
+Mittie never alluded to Clinton in her conversation with her mother.
+There was only one being to whom she now felt willing to breathe his
+name, and that was Arthur Hazleton. The first time she was alone with
+him, she asked the question that had long been hovering on her lips. She
+was sitting in an easy chair, supported by pillows, her head resting on
+her wasted hand. The reflection of the crimson curtains gave a glow to
+the chill whiteness of her face, and softened the gloom of her sable
+eyes. She looked earnestly at Arthur, who knew all that she wished to
+ask. The color mounted to his cheek. He could not frame a falsehood, and
+he feared to reveal the truth.
+
+"Are there any tidings of him?" said she; "is he safe--or has his flight
+been discovered? But," continued she in a lower voice, "you need not
+speak. Your looks reveal the whole. He is again imprisoned."
+
+Arthur bowed his head, glad to be spared the painful task of asserting
+the fact.
+
+"And there is no hope of pardon or acquittal?" she asked.
+
+"None. He _must_ meet his doom. And, Mittie, sad as it is--it is just.
+Your own sense of rectitude and justice will in time sanction the
+decree. You may, you must pity him--but love, unsupported by esteem,
+must expire. You are mourning now over a bright illusion--a fallen
+idol--a deserted temple; but believe me, your mourning will change to
+joy. The illusion is dispelled, that truth may shine forth in all its
+splendor; the idol thrown down that the living God may be enthroned upon
+the altar; the temple deserted that it may be filled with the glory of
+the Lord."
+
+"You are right, Arthur, in one thing--would to God you were in all. It
+is not love I now feel, but despair. It is dreadful to look forward to a
+cold, unloving existence. I shudder to think how young I am, and how
+long I may have yet to live."
+
+"Yours is the natural language of disappointed youth. You have passed
+through a fiery ordeal. The sore and quivering heart shrinks from the
+contact even of sympathy. You fear the application of even Gilead's
+balm. You are weak and languid, and I will not weary you with
+discussion; but spring will soon be here; genial, rejoicing spring. You
+will revive with its flowers, and your spirit warble with its singing
+birds. Then we will walk abroad in the hush of twilight--and if you will
+promise to listen, I will preach you a daily sermon, with nature for my
+text and inspiration too."
+
+"Ah! such sermons should be breathed to Helen only. She can understand
+and profit by them."
+
+"There is room enough in God's temple for you and Helen too," replied
+Arthur. Mittie remembered the words of her step-mother, so similar, and
+was struck by the coincidence. Her own views seemed very selfish and
+narrow, by contrast.
+
+The flowers of spring unfolded, and Mittie did indeed revive and bloom
+again, but it was as the lily, not the rose. The love tint of the latter
+had faded, never to blush again.
+
+There was a subdued happiness in the household, which had long been a
+stranger there.
+
+Louis, though his brow still wore the traces of remorse, was happy in
+the consciousness of errors forgiven, confidence restored, and good
+resolutions strengthened and confirmed. He devoted himself to his
+father's business with an industry and zeal more worthy of praise,
+because he was obliged to struggle with his natural inclinations. He
+believed it his father's wish to keep him with him, and he made it his
+law to obey him, thinking his future life too short for expiation. There
+was another object, for which he also thought life too short, and that
+was to secure the happiness of Alice--whom he loved with a purity and
+intensity that was deepened by her helplessness and almost infantine
+artlessness. He knew that her blindness was hopeless, but it seemed to
+him that he loved her the more for her blindness, her entire dependence
+on his care. It would be such a holy task to protect and cherish her,
+and to throw around her darkened life the illuminating influence of
+love.
+
+She was still with them, and Mrs. Hazleton had been induced to leave the
+seclusion of the Parsonage, and become the guest of Mrs. Gleason. It
+must have been a strong motive that tempted her from the hallowed
+shades, which she had never quitted since her husband's death. Reader,
+can you conjecture what that motive was?
+
+A very handsome new house, built in the cottage style, had been lately
+erected in the vicinity of Mr. Gleason's, under the superintendence of
+the young doctor, and rumor said that he was shortly to be married to
+Helen Gleason. Every one thought it was time for _him_ to be married, if
+he ever intended to be, but many objected to her extreme youth. That,
+however, was the only objection urged, as Helen was a universal
+favorite, and Arthur Hazleton the idol of the town.
+
+Arthur had never made Helen a formal declaration of love. He had never
+asked her in so many many words, "Will you be my wife?" As imperceptibly
+and gracefully as the morning twilight brightens into the fervor and
+glory of noonday, had the watchfulness and tenderness of friendship
+deepened into the warmth and devotion of perfect love. Helen could not
+look back to any particular scene, where the character of the friend was
+merged into that of the lover. She felt the blessed assurance that she
+was beloved, yet had any one asked her how and when she first received
+it, she would have found it difficult to answer. He talked to her of the
+happiness of the future, of _their_ future, of the heaven of mutual
+trust and faith and love, begun on earth, in the kingdom of their
+hearts, till it seemed as if her individual existence ceased, and life
+with him became a heavenly identity. There were other life interests,
+too, twining together, as the following scene will show.
+
+The evening before the wedding-day of Arthur and Helen, as Mrs. Hazleton
+was walking in the garden, gathering flowers and evergreens for bridal
+garlands to decorate the room, Louis approached her, hand in hand with
+her blind child.
+
+"Mrs. Hazleton," said he with trembling eagerness, "will you give me
+your daughter, and let us hallow the morrow by a double wedding?"
+
+"What, Alice, my poor blind Alice!" exclaimed Mrs. Hazleton, dropping in
+astonishment the flowers she had gathered. "You cannot mean what you
+say--and her misfortune should make her sacred from levity."
+
+"I do mean it. I have long and ardently wished it. The consciousness of
+my unworthiness has till now sealed my lips, but I cannot keep silence
+longer. My affection has grown too strong for the restraints imposed
+upon it. Give me your daughter, dearer to me for her blindness, more
+precious for her helplessness, and I will guard her as the richest
+treasure ever bestowed on man."
+
+Mrs. Hazleton was greatly agitated. She had always looked on Alice as
+excluded by her misfortune from the usual destiny of her sex, as
+consecrated from her birth for a vestal's lot. She had never thought of
+her being wooed as a wife, and she repelled the idea as something
+sacrilegious.
+
+"Impossible, Louis," she answered. "You know not what you ask. My Alice
+is set apart, by her Maker's will, from the sympathies of love. I have
+disciplined her for a life of loneliness. She looks forward to no other.
+Disturb not, I pray thee, the holy simplicity of her feelings, by
+inspiring hopes which never can be realized."
+
+"Speak, Alice," cried Louis, "and tell your mother all you just now said
+to me. Let me be justified in her eyes."
+
+Alice lifted her downcast, blushing face, while the tears rolled gently
+from her beautiful, sightless eyes.
+
+"Mother, dear mother, forgive me if I have done wrong, but I cannot help
+my heart's throbbing more quickly at the echo of his footsteps or the
+music of his voice. And when he asked me to be his wife and be ever with
+him, I could not help feeling that it would make me the happiest of
+human beings. Oh, mother, you cannot know how kind, how good, how tender
+he has been to me. The world never looks dark when he is near."
+
+Alice bowed her head on the shoulder of Louis, while her fair ringlets
+swept in shining wreaths over her face.
+
+"This is so unexpected!" cried Mrs. Hazleton. "I must speak with your
+parents."
+
+"I come with their full consent and approbation. Alice will take the
+place of Helen in the household, and prevent the aching void that would
+be left."
+
+"Alas! what can Alice do?"
+
+"I can love him and pray for him, mother, live to bless him, and die,
+too, for his sake, if God requires such a sacrifice."
+
+"Is not hers a heavenly mission?" cried Louis, taking the hand which
+rested on his arm, and laying it gently against his heart. "This little
+hand, whose touch quickens the pulsations of my being, will be a shield
+from temptation, a safeguard from sin. What can I do for her half so
+precious as her blessings and her prayers? If I am a lamp to her path,
+she will be a light to my soul. 'What can Alice do?' She can do every
+thing that a guardian angel can do. Give her to me, for I need her
+watchful cares."
+
+"I see she is yours already," cried the now weeping mother, "I cannot
+take away what God has given. May He bless you, and sanctify this
+peculiar and solemn union."
+
+Thus there was a double wedding on the morrow.
+
+"But she had no wedding dress prepared!" says one
+
+A robe of pure white muslin was all the lovely blind bride wished, and
+that she had always ready. A wreath of white rose-buds encircling her
+hair, completed her bridal attire. Helen wore no richer decoration.
+Spotless white, adorned with sweet, opening flowers, what could be more
+appropriate for youth and innocence like theirs?
+
+Mittie wore the same fair, youthful livery, and a stranger might have
+mistaken her for one of the brides of the evening--but no love-light
+beamed in her large, dark, melancholy eyes. She would gladly have
+absented herself from a scene in which her blighted heart had no
+sympathy, but she believed it her _duty_ to be present, and when she
+congratulated the wedded pairs, she tried to smile, though her smile was
+as cold as a moonbeam on snow.
+
+Helen's eyes filled with tears at the sight of that faint, cold smile.
+She thought of Clinton, as he had first appeared among them, splendid in
+youthful beauty, and then of Clinton, languishing in chains, and doomed
+to long imprisonment in a lonely dungeon. She thought of her sister's
+wasted affections, betrayed confidence, and blasted hopes, and
+contrasting _her_ lot with her own blissful destiny, she turned aside
+her head and wept.
+
+"Weep not, Helen," said Arthur, in a low voice, divining the cause of
+her emotion, and fixing on the retiring form of Mittie his own
+glistening eye; "she now sows in tears, but she may yet reap in joy.
+Hers is a mighty struggle, for her character is composed of strong and
+warring elements. Her mind has grasped the sublime truths of religion,
+and when once her heart embraces them, it will kindle with the fire of
+martyrdom. I have studied her deeply, intensely, and believe me, my own
+dear Helen, my too sad and tearful bride, though she is now wading
+through cold and troubled waters, her feet will rest on the green margin
+of the promised land."
+
+And this prophecy was indeed fulfilled. Mittie never became gentle,
+amiable and loving, like Helen, for as Arthur had justly said, her
+character was composed of strong and warring elements--but after a long
+and agonizing strife, she did become a zealous and devoted Christian.
+The hard, metallic materials of her nature were at last fused by the
+flame of divine love. She had passed through a baptism of fire, and
+though it had blistered and scarred, it had purified her heart.
+Christianity, in her, never wore a serene and joyous aspect. Its diadem
+was the crown of thorns, its drink often the vinegar and gall. It was on
+the Mount of Calvary, not of Transfiguration, that she beheld her
+Saviour, and her God.
+
+Had she been a Catholic, she would have worn the vesture of sackcloth,
+and slept upon the bed of iron, and even used the knotted scourge in
+expiation of her sins, but as the severe simplicity of her Protestant
+faith forbade such penances, she manifested, by the most rigid
+self-denial and strictest devotion, the sincerity of her penitence and
+the fervor of her faith.
+
+Was Miss Thusa forgotten? Did she sleep in her lonely grave unhonored
+and unmourned?
+
+In a corner of Helen's own room, conspicuous in the mids of the elegant,
+modern furniture that adorns it, there stands an ancient brass-bound
+wheel. The brass shines with the lustre of burnished gold, and the dark
+wood-work has the polish of old mahogany. Nothing in Helen's possession
+is so carefully preserved, so reverently guarded as that ancestral
+machine.
+
+Nor is this the only memento of the aged spinster. In the grave-yard is
+a simple monument of gray marble, which gratitude and affection have
+erected to her memory. Instead of the willow, with weeping branches, the
+usual badge of grief--a wheel carved in bas relief perpetuates the
+remembrance of her life-long occupation. Below this is written the
+inscription--
+
+"She laid her hands to the spindle, and her hands held the distaff."
+
+"She opened her mouth with wisdom, and in her tongue was the law of
+kindness."
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
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+CHARLES DICKENS' WORKS.
+
+The best and most popular in the world. Ten different editions. No
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+
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+    Stories by the Christmas Fire. Hard Times. Lizzie Leigh. The Miner's
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+
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+  Volume 1 contains Pickwick Papers and Curiosity Shop.
+    "    2    do.   Oliver Twist, Sketches by "Boz," and Barnaby Rudge.
+    "    3    do.   Nicholas Nickleby and Martin Chuzzlewit.
+    "    4    do.   David Copperfield, Dombey and Son, Christmas Stories,
+                    and Pictures from Italy.
+    "    5    do.   Bleak House, and Dickens' New Stories. Containing--The
+                    Seven Poor Travellers. Nine New Stories by the
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+
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+
+--> _Illustrated Edition is described on next page._ <--
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+  OLD CURIOSITY SHOP,            1 50
+  OLIVER TWIST,                  1 50
+  SKETCHES BY "BOZ,"             1 50
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+  MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT,             1 50
+  DAVID COPPERFIELD,             1 50
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+
+  YEAR AFTER MARRIAGE.
+  THE DIVORCED WIFE.
+  THE BANKER'S WIFE.
+  PRIDE AND PRUDENCE.
+  CECILIA HOWARD.
+  MARY MORETON.
+  LOVE IN A COTTAGE.
+  LOVE IN HIGH LIFE.
+  THE TWO MERCHANTS.
+  LADY AT HOME.
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+  THE DEBTOR'S DAUGHTER.
+  INSUBORDINATION.
+  LUCY SANDFORD.
+  AGNES, or the Possessed.
+  THE TWO BRIDES.
+  THE IRON RULE.
+  THE OLD ASTROLOGER.
+  THE SEAMSTRESS.
+
+
+CHARLES LEVER'S NOVELS.
+
+CHARLES O'MALLEY, the Irish Dragoon. By Charles Lever. Complete in one
+    large octavo volume of 324 pages. Price Fifty cents; or an edition
+    on finer paper, bound in cloth, illustrated. Price One Dollar.
+
+THE KNIGHT OF GWYNNE. A tale of the time of the Union. By Charles Lever.
+    Complete in one fine octavo volume. Price Fifty cents; or an edition
+    on finer paper, bound in cloth, illustrated. Price One Dollar.
+
+JACK HINTON, the Guardsman. By Charles Lever. Complete in one large
+    octavo volume of 400 pages. Price Fifty cents; or an edition on
+    finer paper, bound in cloth, illustrated. Price One Dollar.
+
+TOM BURKE OF OURS. By Charles Lever. Complete in one large octavo volume
+    of 300 pages. Price Fifty cents; or an edition on finer paper, bound
+    in cloth, illustrated. Price One Dollar.
+
+ARTHUR O'LEARY. By Charles Lever. Complete in one large octavo volume.
+    Price Fifty cents; or an edition on finer paper, bound in cloth,
+    illustrated. Price One Dollar.
+
+KATE O'DONOGHUE. A Tale of Ireland. By Charles Lever. Complete in one
+    large octavo volume. Price Fifty cents; or an edition on finer
+    paper, bound in cloth, illustrated. Price One Dollar.
+
+HORACE TEMPLETON. By Charles Lever. This is Lever's New Book. Complete
+    in one large octavo volume. Price Fifty cents; or an edition on
+    finer paper, bound in cloth, illustrated. Price One Dollar.
+
+HARRY LORREQUER. By Charles Lever, author of the above seven works.
+    Complete in one octavo volume of 402 pages. Price Fifty cents; or an
+    edition on finer paper, bound in cloth, illustrated. Price One
+    Dollar.
+
+VALENTINE VOX.--LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF VALENTINE VOX, the Ventriloquist.
+    By Henry Cockton. One of the most humorous books ever published.
+    Price Fifty cents; or an edition in finer paper, bound in cloth.
+    Price One Dollar.
+
+PERCY EFFINGHAM. By Henry Cockton, author of "Valentine Vox, the
+    Ventriloquist." One large octavo volume. Price 50 cents.
+
+TEN THOUSAND A YEAR. By Samuel C. Warren. With Portraits of Snap, Quirk,
+    Gammon, and Tittlebat Titmouse, Esq. Two large octavo vols., of 547
+    pages. Price One Dollar; or an edition on finer paper, bound in
+    cloth, $1,50.
+
+
+CHARLES J. PETERSON'S WORKS.
+
+KATE AYLESFORD. A story of the Refugees. One of the most popular books
+    ever printed. Complete in two large volumes, paper cover. Price One
+    Dollar; or bound in one volume, cloth, gilt. Price $1 25.
+
+CRUISING IN THE LAST WAR. A Naval Story of the War of 1812. First and
+    Second Series. Being the complete work, unabridged. By Charles J.
+    Peterson. 228 octavo pages. Price 50 cents.
+
+GRACE DUDLEY; OR, ARNOLD AT SARATOGA. By Charles J. Peterson.
+    Illustrated. Price 25 cents.
+
+THE VALLEY FARM; OR, the AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN ORPHAN. A companion to Jane
+    Eyre. Price 25 cents.
+
+
+EUGENE SUE'S NOVELS.
+
+THE MYSTERIES OF PARIS; AND GEROLSTEIN, the Sequel to it. By Eugene Sue,
+    author of the "Wandering Jew," and the greatest work ever written.
+    With illustrations. Complete in two large volumes, octavo. Price One
+    Dollar.
+
+THE ILLUSTRATED WANDERING JEW. By Eugene Sue. With 87 large
+    illustrations. Two large octavo volumes. Price One Dollar.
+
+THE FEMALE BLUEBEARD; or, the Woman with many Husbands. By Eugene Sue.
+    Price Twenty-five cents.
+
+FIRST LOVE. A Story of the Heart. By Eugene Sue. Price Twenty-five
+    cents.
+
+WOMAN'S LOVE. A Novel. By Eugene Sue. Illustrated. Price Twenty-five
+    cents.
+
+MAN-OF-WAR'S-MAN. A Tale of the Sea. By Eugene Sue. Price Twenty-five
+    cents.
+
+RAOUL DE SURVILLE; or, the Times of Napoleon Bonaparte in 1810. Price
+    Twenty-five cents.
+
+
+SIR E. L. BULWER'S NOVELS.
+
+FALKLAND. A Novel. By Sir E. L. Bulwer, author of "The Roue,"
+    "Oxonians," etc. One volume, octavo. Price 25 cents.
+
+THE ROUE; OR THE HAZARDS OF WOMEN. Price 25 cents.
+
+THE OXONIANS. A Sequel to the Roue. Price 25 cents.
+
+CALDERON, THE COURTIER. By Bulwer. Price 12½ cents.
+
+
+MRS. GREY'S NOVELS.
+
+Either of which can be had separately. Price 25 cents each. They are
+printed on the finest white paper, and each forms one large octavo
+volume, complete in itself, neatly bound in a strong paper cover.
+
+  DUKE AND THE COUSIN.
+  GIPSY'S DAUGHTER.
+  BELLE OF THE FAMILY.
+  SYBIL LENNARD.
+  THE LITTLE WIFE.
+  MANOEUVRING MOTHER.
+  LENA CAMERON; or, the Four Sisters.
+  THE BARONET'S DAUGHTERS.
+  THE YOUNG PRIMA DONNA.
+  THE OLD DOWER HOUSE.
+  HYACINTHE.
+  ALICE SEYMOUR.
+  HARRY MONK.
+  MARY SEAHAM. 250 pages. Price 50 cents.
+  PASSION AND PRINCIPLE. 200 pages. Price 50 cents.
+
+
+GEORGE W. M. REYNOLD'S WORKS.
+
+THE NECROMANCER. A Romance of the times of Henry the Eighth. By G. W. M.
+    Reynolds. One large volume. Price 75 cents.
+
+THE PARRICIDE; OR, THE YOUTH'S CAREER IN CRIME. By G. W. M. Reynolds.
+    Full of beautiful illustrations. Price 50 cents.
+
+LIFE IN PARIS: OR, THE ADVENTURES OF ALFRED DE ROSANN IN THE METROPOLIS
+    OF FRANCE. By G. W. M. Reynolds. Full of Engravings. Price 50
+    cents.
+
+
+AINSWORTH'S WORKS.
+
+JACK SHEPPARD.--PICTORIAL LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF JACK SHEPPARD, the most
+    noted burglar, robber, and jail breaker, that ever lived.
+    Embellished with Thirty-nine, full page, spirited Illustrations,
+    designed and engraved in the finest style of art, by George
+    Cruikshank, Esq., of London. Price Fifty cents.
+
+ILLUSTRATED TOWER OF LONDON. With 100 splendid engravings. This is
+    beyond all doubt one of the most interesting works ever published in
+    the known world, and can be read and re-read with pleasure and
+    satisfaction by everybody. We advise all persons to get it and read
+    it. Two volumes, octavo. Price One Dollar.
+
+PICTORIAL LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF GUY FAWKES, The Chief of the Gunpowder
+    Treason. The Bloody Tower, etc. Illustrated By William Harrison
+    Ainsworth. 200 pages. Price Fifty cents.
+
+THE STAR CHAMBER. An Historical Romance. By W. Harrison Ainsworth. With
+    17 large full page illustrations. Price 50 cents.
+
+THE PICTORIAL OLD ST. PAUL'S. By William Harrison Ainsworth. Full of
+    Illustrations. Price Fifty cents.
+
+MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF QUEEN ANNE. By William Harrison Ainsworth.
+    Price Fifty cents.
+
+MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF THE STUARTS. By Ainsworth. Being one of the
+    most interesting Historical Romances ever written. One large volume.
+    Price Fifty cents.
+
+DICK TURPIN.--ILLUSTRATED LIFE OF DICK TURPIN, the Highwayman, Burglar,
+    Murderer, etc. Price Twenty-five cents.
+
+HENRY THOMAS.--LIFE OF HARRY THOMAS, the Western Burglar and Murderer.
+    Full of Engravings. Price Twenty-five cents.
+
+DESPERADOES.--ILLUSTRATED LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF THE DESPERADOES OF THE
+    NEW WORLD. Full of engravings. Price Twenty-five cents.
+
+NINON DE L'ENCLOS.--LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF NINON DE L'ENCLOS, with her
+    Letters on Love, Courtship and Marriage. Illustrated. Price
+    Twenty-five cents.
+
+THE PICTORIAL NEWGATE CALENDAR; or the Chronicles of Crime. Beautifully
+    illustrated with Fifteen Engravings. Price Fifty cents.
+
+PICTORIAL LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF DAVY CROCKETT. Written by himself.
+    Beautifully illustrated. Price Fifty cents.
+
+LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF ARTHUR SPRING, the murderer of Mrs. Ellen Lynch
+    and Mrs. Honora Shaw, with a complete history of his life and
+    misdeeds, from the time of his birth until he was hung. Illustrated
+    with portraits. Price Twenty-five cents.
+
+JACK ADAMS.--PICTORIAL LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF JACK ADAMS; the celebrated
+    Sailor and Mutineer. By Captain Chamier, author of "The Spitfire."
+    Full of illustrations. Price Fifty cents.
+
+GRACE O'MALLEY.--PICTORIAL LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF GRACE O'MALLEY. By
+    William H. Maxwell, author of "Wild Sports in the West." Price Fifty
+    cents.
+
+THE PIRATE'S SON. A Sea Novel of great interest. Full of beautiful
+    illustrations. Price Twenty-five cents.
+
+
+ALEXANDRE DUMAS' WORKS.
+
+THE IRON MASK, OR THE FEATS AND ADVENTURES OF RAOULE DE BRAGELONNE.
+    Being the conclusion of "The Three Guardsmen," "Twenty Years After,"
+    and "Bragelonne." By Alexandre Dumas. Complete in two large volumes,
+    of 420 octavo pages, with beautifully Illustrated Covers, Portraits,
+    and Engravings. Price One Dollar.
+
+LOUISE LA VALLIERE; OR THE SECOND SERIES AND FINAL END OF THE IRON MASK.
+    By Alexandre Dumas. This work is the final end of "The Three
+    Guardsmen," "Twenty Years After," "Bragelonne," and "The Iron Mask,"
+    and is of far more interesting and absorbing interest, than any of
+    its predecessors. Complete in two large octavo volumes of over 400
+    pages, printed on the best of paper, beautifully illustrated. It
+    also contains correct Portraits of "Louise La Valliere," and "The
+    Hero of the Iron Mask." Price One Dollar.
+
+THE MEMOIRS OF A PHYSICIAN; OR THE SECRET HISTORY OF LOUIS THE
+    FIFTEENTH. By Alexandre Dumas. It is beautifully embellished with
+    thirty engravings, which illustrate the principal scenes and
+    characters of the different heroines throughout the work. Complete
+    in two large octavo volumes. Price One Dollar.
+
+THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE: OR THE SECRET HISTORY OF THE COURT OF LOUIS THE
+    SIXTEENTH. A Sequel to the Memoirs of a Physician. By Alexandre
+    Dumas. It is beautifully illustrated with portraits of the heroines
+    of the work. Complete in two large octavo volumes of over 400 pages.
+    Price One Dollar.
+
+SIX YEARS LATER; OR THE TAKING OF THE BASTILE. By Alexandre Dumas. Being
+    the continuation of "The Queen's Necklace; or the Secret History of
+    the Court of Louis the Sixteenth," and "Memoirs of a Physician."
+    Complete in one large octavo volume. Price Seventy-five cents.
+
+COUNTESS DE CHARNY; OR THE FALL OF THE FRENCH MONARCHY. By Alexandre
+    Dumas. This work is the final conclusion of the "Memoirs of a
+    Physician," "The Queen's Necklace," and "Six Years Later, or Taking
+    of the Bastile." All persons who have not read Dumas in this, his
+    greatest and most instructive production, should begin at once, and
+    no pleasure will be found so agreeable, and nothing in novel form so
+    useful and absorbing. Complete in two volumes, beautifully
+    illustrated. Price One Dollar.
+
+DIANA OF MERIDOR; THE LADY OF MONSOREAU; or France in the Sixteenth
+    Century. By Alexandre Dumas. An Historical Romance. Complete in two
+    large octavo volumes of 538 pages, with numerous illustrative
+    engravings. Price One Dollar.
+
+ISABEL OF BAVARIA; or the Chronicles of France for the reign of Charles
+    the Sixth. Complete in one fine octavo volume of 211 pages, printed
+    on the finest white paper. Price Fifty cents.
+
+EDMOND DANTES. Being the sequel to Dumas' celebrated novel of the Count
+    of Monte Cristo. With elegant illustrations. Complete in one large
+    octavo volume of over 200 pages. Price Fifty cents.
+
+THE CORSICAN BROTHERS. This work has already been dramatized, and is now
+    played in all the theatres of Europe and in this country, and it is
+    exciting an extraordinary interest. Price Twenty-five cents.
+
+SKETCHES IN FRANCE. By Alexandre Dumas. It is as good a book as
+    Thackeray's Sketches in Ireland. Dumas never wrote a better book. It
+    is the most delightful book of the season. Price Fifty cents.
+
+GENEVIEVE, OR THE CHEVALIER OF THE MAISON ROUGE. By Alexandre Dumas. An
+    Historical Romance of the French Revolution. Complete in one large
+    octavo volume of over 200 pages, with numerous illustrative
+    engravings. Price Fifty cents.
+
+
+GEORGE LIPPARD'S WORKS.
+
+WASHINGTON AND HIS GENERALS; or, Legends of the American Revolution.
+    Complete in two large octavo volumes of 538 pages, printed on the
+    finest white paper. Price One Dollar.
+
+THE QUAKER CITY; or, the Monks of Monk Hall. A Romance of Philadelphia
+    Life, Mystery and Crime. Illustrated with numerous Engravings.
+    Complete in two large octavo volumes of 500 pages. Price One Dollar.
+
+THE LADYE OF ALBARONE; or, the Poison Goblet. A Romance of the Dark
+    Ages. Lippard's Last Work, and never before published. Complete in
+    one large octavo volume. Price Seventy-five cents.
+
+PAUL ARDENHEIM; the Monk of Wissahickon. A Romance of the Revolution.
+    Illustrated with numerous engravings. Complete in two large octavo
+    volumes, of nearly 600 pages. Price One Dollar.
+
+BLANCHE OF BRANDYWINE; or, September the Eleventh, 1777. A Romance of
+    the Poetry, Legends, and History of the Battle of Brandywine. It
+    makes a large octavo volume of 350 pages, printed on the finest
+    white paper. Price Seventy-five cents.
+
+LEGENDS OF MEXICO; or, Battles of General Zachary Taylor, late President
+    of the United States. Complete in one octavo volume of 128 pages.
+    Price Twenty-five cents.
+
+THE NAZARENE; or, the Last of the Washingtons. A Revelation of
+    Philadelphia, New York, and Washington, in the year 1844. Complete
+    in one volume. Price Fifty cents.
+
+
+B. D'ISRAELI'S NOVELS.
+
+VIVIAN GREY. By B. D'Israeli, M. P. Complete in one large octavo volume
+    of 225 pages. Price Fifty cents.
+
+THE YOUNG DUKE; or the younger days of George the Fourth. By B.
+    D'Israeli, M. P. One octavo volume. Price Thirty-eight cents.
+
+VENETIA; or, Lord Byron and his Daughter. By B. D'Israeli, M. P.
+    Complete in one large octavo volume. Price Fifty cents.
+
+HENRIETTA TEMPLE. A Love Story. By B. D'Israeli, M. P. Complete in one
+    large octavo volume. Price Fifty cents.
+
+CONTARINA FLEMING. An Autobiography. By B. D'Israeli, M. P. One volume,
+    octavo. Price Thirty-eight cents.
+
+MIRIAM ALROY. A Romance of the Twelfth Century. By B. D'Israeli, M. P.
+    One volume octavo. Price Thirty-eight cents.
+
+
+EMERSON BENNETT'S WORKS.
+
+CLARA MORELAND. This is a powerfully written romance. The characters are
+    boldly drawn, the plot striking, the incidents replete with
+    thrilling interest, and the language and descriptions natural and
+    graphic, as are all of Mr. Bennett's Works. 336 pages. Price 50
+    cents in paper cover, or One Dollar in cloth, gilt.
+
+VIOLA; OR, ADVENTURES IN THE FAR SOUTH-WEST. Complete in one largo
+    volume. Price 50 cents in paper cover, or 75 cents in cloth, gilt.
+
+THE FORGED WILL. Complete in one large volume, of over 300 pages, paper
+    cover, price 50 cents; or bound in cloth, gilt, price $1 00.
+
+KATE CLARENDON; OR, NECROMANCY IN THE WILDERNESS. Price 50 cents in
+    paper cover, or 75 cents in cloth, gilt.
+
+BRIDE OF THE WILDERNESS. Complete in one large volume. Price 50 cents in
+    paper cover, or 75 cents in cloth, gilt.
+
+THE PIONEER'S DAUGHTER; and THE UNKNOWN COUNTESS. By Emerson Bennett.
+    Price 50 cents.
+
+HEIRESS OF BELLEFONTE; and WALDE-WARREN. A Tale of Circumstantial
+    Evidence. By Emerson Bennett. Price 50 cents.
+
+ELLEN NORBURY; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF AN ORPHAN. Complete in one large
+    volume, price 50 cents in paper cover, or in cloth gilt, $1 00.
+
+
+MISS LESLIE'S NEW COOK BOOK.
+
+MISS LESLIE'S NEW RECEIPTS FOR COOKING. Comprising new and approved
+    methods of preparing all kinds of soups, fish, oysters, terrapins,
+    turtle, vegetables, meats, poultry, game, sauces, pickles, sweet
+    meats, cakes, pies, puddings, confectionery, rice, Indian meal
+    preparations of all kinds, domestic liquors, perfumery, remedies,
+    laundry-work, needle-work, letters, additional receipts, etc. Also,
+    list of articles suited to go together for breakfasts, dinners, and
+    suppers, and much useful information and many miscellaneous subjects
+    connected with general house-wifery. It is an elegantly printed
+    duodecimo volume of 520 pages; and in it there will be found _One
+    Thousand and Eleven new Receipts_--all useful--some ornamental--and
+    all invaluable to every lady, miss, or family in the world. This
+    work has had a very extensive sale, and many thousand copies have
+    been sold, and the demand is increasing yearly, being the most
+    complete work of the kind published in the world, and also the
+    latest and best, as, in addition to Cookery, its receipts for making
+    cakes and confectionery are unequalled by any other work extant. New
+    edition, enlarged and improved, and handsomely bound. Price One
+    Dollar a copy only. This is the only new Cook Book by Miss Leslie.
+
+
+GEORGE SANDS' WORKS.
+
+FIRST AND TRUE LOVE. A True Love Story. By George Sand, author of
+    "Consuelo," "Indiana," etc. It is one of the most charming and
+    interesting works ever published. Illustrated. Price 50 cents.
+
+INDIANA. By George Sand, author of "First and True Love," etc. A very
+    bewitching and interesting work. Price 50 cents.
+
+THE CORSAIR. A Venetian Tale. Price 25 cents.
+
+
+HUMOROUS AMERICAN WORKS.
+
+WITH ORIGINAL ILLUSTRATION BY DARLEY AND OTHERS, AND BEAUTIFULLY
+ILLUMINATED COVERS.
+
+We have just published new and beautiful editions of the following
+HUMOROUS AMERICAN WORKS. They are published in the best possible style,
+full of original Illustrations, by Darley, descriptive of all the best
+scenes in each work, with Illuminated Covers, with new and beautiful
+designs on each, and are printed on the finest and best of white paper.
+There are no works to compare with them in point of wit and humor, in
+the whole world. The price of each work is Fifty cents only.
+
+THE FOLLOWING ARE THE NAMES OF THE WORKS.
+
+MAJOR JONES' COURTSHIP: detailed, with other Scenes, Incidents, and
+    Adventures, in a Series of Letters, by himself. With Thirteen
+    Illustrations from designs by Darley. Price Fifty cents.
+
+DRAMA IN POKERVILLE: the Bench and Bar of Jurytown, and other Stories.
+    By "Everpoint," (J. M. Field, of the St. Louis Reveille.) With
+    Illustrations from designs by Darley. Fifty cents.
+
+CHARCOAL SKETCHES; or, Scenes in the Metropolis. By Joseph C. Neal,
+    author of "Peter Ploddy," "Misfortunes of Peter Faber," etc. With
+    Illustrations. Price Fifty cents.
+
+YANKEE AMONGST THE MERMAIDS, and other Waggeries and Vagaries. By W. E.
+    Burton, Comedian. With Illustrations by Darley. Price Fifty cents.
+
+MISFORTUNES OF PETER FABER, and other Sketches. By the author of
+    "Charcoal Sketches." With Illustrations by Darley and others. Price
+    Fifty cents.
+
+MAJOR JONES' SKETCHES OF TRAVEL, comprising the Scenes, Incidents, and
+    Adventures in his Tour from Georgia to Canada. With Eight
+    Illustrations from Designs by Darley. Price Fifty cents.
+
+STREAKS OF SQUATTER LIFE, and Far West Scenes. A Series of humorous
+    Sketches, descriptive of Incidents and Character in the Wild West.
+    By the author of "Major Jones' Courtship," "Swallowing Oysters
+    Alive," etc. With Illustrations from designs by Darley. Price Fifty
+    cents.
+
+QUARTER RACE IN KENTUCKY, AND OTHER STORIES. By W. T. Porter, Esq., of
+    the New York Spirit of the Times. With Eight Illustrations and
+    designs by Darley. Complete in one volume. Price Fifty cents.
+
+SIMON SUGGS.--ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS, late of the Tallapoosa
+    Volunteers, together with "Taking the Census," and other Alabama
+    Sketches. By a Country Editor. With a Portrait from Life, and Nine
+    other Illustrations by Darley. Price Fifty cents.
+
+RIVAL BELLES. By J. B. Jones, author of "Wild Western Scenes," etc. This
+    is a very humorous and entertaining work, and one that will be
+    recommended by all after reading it. Price Fifty cents.
+
+YANKEE YARNS AND YANKEE LETTERS. By Sam Slick, alias Judge Haliburton.
+    Full of the drollest humor that has ever emanated from the pen of
+    any author. Every page will set you in a roar. Price Fifty cents.
+
+LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF COL. VANDERBOMB, AND THE EXPLOITS OF HIS PRIVATE
+    SECRETARY. By J. B. Jones, author of "The Rival Belles," "Wild
+    Western Scenes," etc. Price Fifty cents.
+
+BIG BEAR OF ARKANSAS, and other Sketches, illustrative of Characters and
+    Incidents in the South and South-West. Edited by Wm. T. Porter. With
+    Illustrations by Darley. Price Fifty cents.
+
+MAJOR JONES' CHRONICLES OF PINEVILLE; embracing Sketches of Georgia
+    Scenes, Incidents, and Characters. By the author of "Major Jones'
+    Courtship," etc. With Illustrations by Darley. Price Fifty cents.
+
+LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF PERCIVAL MABERRY. By J. H. Ingraham. It will
+    interest and please everybody. All who enjoy a good laugh should get
+    it at once. Price Fifty cents.
+
+FRANK FORESTER'S QUORNDON HOUNDS; or, A Virginian at Melton Mowbray. By
+    H. W. Herbert, Esq. With Illustrations. Price Fifty cents.
+
+PICKINGS FROM THE PORTFOLIO OF THE REPORTER OF THE "NEW ORLEANS
+    PICAYUNE." Comprising Sketches of the Eastern Yankee, the Western
+    Hoosier, and such others as make up society in the great Metropolis
+    of the South. With Illustrations by Darley. Price Fifty cents.
+
+FRANK FORESTER'S SHOOTING BOX. By the author of "The Quorndon Hounds,"
+    "The Deer Stalkers," etc. With Illustrations by Darley. Price Fifty
+    cents.
+
+STRAY SUBJECTS ARRESTED AND BOUND OVER; being the Fugitive Offspring of
+    the "Old Un" and the "Young Un," that have been "Laying Around
+    Loose," and are now "tied up" for fast keeping. With Illustrations
+    by Darley. Price Fifty cents.
+
+FRANK FORESTER'S DEER STALKERS; a Tale of Circumstantial evidence. By
+    the author of "My Shooting Box," "The Quorndon Hounds," etc. With
+    Illustrations. Price Fifty cents.
+
+ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN FARRAGO. By Hon. H. H. Brackenridge. For Sixteen
+    years one of the Judges of the Supreme Court of the State of
+    Pennsylvania. With Illustrations from designs by Darley Price Fifty
+    cents.
+
+THE CHARMS OF PARIS; or, Sketches of Travel and Adventures by Night and
+    Day, of a Gentleman of Fortune and Leisure. From his private
+    journal. Price Fifty cents.
+
+PETER PLODDY, and other oddities. By the author of "Charcoal Sketches,"
+    "Peter Faber," &c. With Illustrations from original designs, by
+    Darley. Price Fifty cents.
+
+WIDOW RUGBY'S HUSBAND, a Night at the Ugly Man's, and other Tales of
+    Alabama. By author of "Simon Suggs." With original Illustrations.
+    Price Fifty cents.
+
+MAJOR O'REGAN'S ADVENTURES. By Hon. H. H. Brackenridge. With
+    Illustrations by Darley. Price Fifty cents.
+
+SOL. SMITH; THEATRICAL APPRENTICESHIP AND ANECDOTAL RECOLLECTIONS OF
+    SOL. SMITH, Esq., Comedian, Lawyer, etc. Illustrated by Darley.
+    Containing Early Scenes, Wanderings in the West, Cincinnati in Early
+    Life, etc. Price Fifty cents.
+
+SOL. SMITH'S NEW BOOK; THE THEATRICAL JOURNEY-WORK AND ANECDOTAL
+    RECOLLECTIONS OF SOL. SMITH, Esq., with a portrait of Sol. Smith. It
+    comprises a Sketch of the second Seven years of his professional
+    life, together with some Sketches of Adventure in after years. Price
+    Fifty cents.
+
+POLLY PEABLOSSOM'S WEDDING, and other Tales. By the author of "Major
+    Jones' Courtship," "Streaks of Squatter Life," etc. Price Fifty
+    cents.
+
+FRANK FORESTER'S WARWICK WOODLANDS; or, Things as they were Twenty Years
+    Ago. By the author of "The Quorndon Hounds," "My Shooting Box," "The
+    Deer Stalkers," etc. With Illustrations, illuminated. Price Fifty
+    cents.
+
+LOUISIANA SWAMP DOCTOR. By Madison Tensas, M. D., Ex. V. P. M. S. U. Ky.
+    Author of "Cupping on the Sternum." With Illustrations by Darley.
+    Price Fifty cents.
+
+NEW ORLEANS SKETCH BOOK, by "Stahl," author of the "Portfolio of a
+    Southern Medical Student." With Illustrations from designs by
+    Darley. Price Fifty cents.
+
+
+FRENCH, GERMAN, SPANISH, LATIN, AND ITALIAN LANGUAGES.
+
+Any person unacquainted with either of the above languages, can, with
+the aid of these works, be enabled to _read_, _write_ and _speak_ the
+language of either, without the aid of a teacher or any oral instruction
+whatever, provided they pay strict attention to the instructions laid
+down in each book, and that nothing shall be passed over, without a
+thorough investigation of the subject it involves: by doing which they
+will be able to _speak_, _read_ or _write_ either language, at their
+will and pleasure. Either of these works is invaluable to any persons
+wishing to learn these languages, and are worth to any one One Hundred
+times their cost. These works have already run through several large
+editions in this country, for no person ever buys one without
+recommending it to his friends.
+
+  FRENCH WITHOUT A MASTER. In Six Easy Lessons.
+    GERMAN WITHOUT A MASTER. In Six Easy Lessons.
+      SPANISH WITHOUT A MASTER. In Four Easy Lessons.
+        ITALIAN WITHOUT A MASTER. In Five Easy Lessons.
+          LATIN WITHOUT A MASTER. In Six Easy Lessons.
+
+Price of either of the above Works, separate, 25 cents each--or the
+whole five may be had for One Dollar, and will be sent _free of postage_
+to any one on their remitting that amount to the publisher, in a
+letter.
+
+
+WORKS BY THE BEST AUTHORS.
+
+FLIRTATIONS IN AMERICA; OR HIGH LIFE IN NEW YORK. A capital book. 285
+    pages. Price 50 cents.
+
+DON QUIXOTTE.--ILLUSTRATED LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTTE DE LA
+    MANCHA, and his Squire Sancho Panza, with all the original notes.
+    300 pages. Price 75 cents.
+
+WILD SPORTS IN THE WEST. By W. H. Maxwell, author of "Pictorial Life and
+    Adventures of Grace O'Malley." Price 50 cents.
+
+THE ROMISH CONFESSIONAL; or, the Auricular Confession and Spiritual
+    direction of the Romish Church. Its History, Consequences, and
+    policy of the Jesuits. By M. Michelet. Price 50 cents.
+
+GENEVRA; or, the History of a Portrait. By Miss Fairfield, one of the
+    best writers in America. 200 pages. Price 50 cents.
+
+WILD OATS SOWN ABROAD; OR, ON AND OFF SOUNDINGS. It is the Private
+    Journal of a Gentleman of Leisure and Education, and of a highly
+    cultivated mind, in making the tour of Europe. It shows up all the
+    High and Low Life to be found in all the fashionable resorts in
+    Paris. Price 50 cents in paper cover, or 75 cents in cloth, gilt.
+
+SALATHIEL; OR, THE WANDERING JEW. By Rev. George Croly. One of the best
+    and most world-wide celebrated books that has ever been printed.
+    Price 50 cents.
+
+LLORENTE'S HISTORY OF THE INQUISITION IN SPAIN. Only edition published
+    in this country. Price 50 cents; or handsomely bound in muslin,
+    gilt, price 75 cents.
+
+DR. HOLLICK'S NEW BOOK. ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY, with a large dissected
+    plate of the Human Figure, colored to Life. By the celebrated Dr.
+    Hollick, author of "The Family Physician," "Origin of Life," etc.
+    Price One Dollar.
+
+DR. HOLLICK'S FAMILY PHYSICIAN; OR, THE TRUE ART OF HEALING THE SICK. A
+    book that should be in the house of every family. It is a perfect
+    treasure. Price 25 cents.
+
+MYSTERIES OF THREE CITIES. Boston, New York, and Philadelphia. Revealing
+    the secrets of society in these various cities. All should read it.
+    By A. J. H. Duganne. 200 pages. Price 50 cents.
+
+RED INDIANS OF NEWFOUNDLAND. A beautifully illustrated Indian Story, by
+    the author of the "Prairie Bird." Price 50 cents.
+
+HARRIS'S ADVENTURES IN AFRICA. This book is a rich treat. Two volumes.
+    Price One Dollar, or handsomely bound, $1.50.
+
+THE PETREL; OR, LOVE ON THE OCEAN. A sea novel equal to the best. By
+    Admiral Fisher. 200 pages. Price 50 cents.
+
+ARISTOCRACY, OR LIFE AMONG THE "UPPER TEN." A true novel of fashionable
+    life. By J. A. Nunes, Esq. Price 50 cents.
+
+THE CABIN AND PARLOR. By J. Thornton Randolph. It is beautifully
+    illustrated. Price 50 cents in paper cover; or a finer edition,
+    printed on thicker and better paper, and handsomely bound in muslin,
+    gilt, is published for One Dollar.
+
+LIFE IN THE SOUTH. A companion to "Uncle Tom's Cabin." By C. H. Wiley.
+    Beautifully illustrated from original designs by Darley. Price 50
+    cents.
+
+SKETCHES IN IRELAND. By William M. Thackeray, author of "Vanity Fair,"
+    "History of Pendennis," etc. Price 50 cents.
+
+THE ROMAN TRAITOR; OR, THE DAYS OF CATALINE AND CICERO. By Henry William
+    Herbert. This is one of the most powerful Roman stories in the
+    English language, and is of itself sufficient to stamp the writer as
+    a powerful man. Complete in two large volumes, of over 250 pages
+    each, paper cover, price One Dollar, or bound in one volume, cloth,
+    for $1 25.
+
+THE LADY'S WORK-TABLE BOOK. Full of plates, designs, diagrams, and
+    illustrations to learn all kinds of needlework. A work every Lady
+    should possess. Price 50 cents in paper cover; or bound in crimson
+    cloth, gilt, for 75 cents.
+
+THE COQUETTE. One of the best books ever written. One volume, octavo,
+    over 200 pages. Price 50 cents.
+
+WHITEFRIARS; OR, THE DAYS OF CHARLES THE SECOND. An Historical Romance.
+    Splendidly illustrated with original designs, by Chapin. It is the
+    best historical romance published for years. Price 50 cents.
+
+WHITEHALL; OR, THE TIMES OF OLIVER CROMWELL. By the author of
+    "Whitefriars." It is a work which, for just popularity and intensity
+    of interest, has not been equalled since the publication of
+    "Waverly." Beautifully illustrated. Price 50 cents.
+
+THE SPITFIRE. A Nautical Romance. By Captain Chamier, author of "Life
+    and Adventures of Jack Adams." Illustrated. Price 50 cents.
+
+UNCLE TOM'S CABIN AS IT IS. One large volume, illustrated, bound in
+    cloth. Price $1 25.
+
+FATHER CLEMENT. By Grace Kennady, author of "Dunallen," "Abbey of
+    Innismoyle," etc. A beautiful book. Price 50 cents.
+
+THE ABBEY OF INNISMOYLE. By Grace Kennady, author of "Father Clement."
+    Equal to any of her former works. Price 25 cents.
+
+THE FORTUNE HUNTER; a novel of New York society, Upper and Lower Tendom.
+    By Mrs. Anna Cora Mowatt. Price 38 cents.
+
+POCKET LIBRARY OF USEFUL KNOWLEDGE. New and enlarged edition, with
+    numerous engravings. Twenty thousand copies sold. We have never seen
+    a volume embracing any thing like the same quantity of useful
+    matter. The work is really a treasure. It should speedily find its
+    way into every family. It also contains a large and entirely new Map
+    of the United States, with full page portraits of the Presidents of
+    the United States, from Washington until the present time, executed
+    in the finest style of the art. Price 50 cents a copy only.
+
+HENRY CLAY'S PORTRAIT. Nagle's correct, full length Mezzotinto Portrait,
+    and only true likeness ever published of the distinguished
+    Statesman. Engraved by Sartain. Size, 22 by 30 inches. Price $1 00 a
+    copy only. Originally sold at $5 00 a copy.
+
+THE MISER'S HEIR; OR, THE YOUNG MILLIONAIRE. A story of a Guardian and
+    his Ward. A prize novel. By P. H. Myers, author of the "Emigrant
+    Squire." Price 50 cents in paper cover, or 75 cents in cloth, gilt.
+
+THE TWO LOVERS. A Domestic Story. It is a highly interesting and
+    companionable book, conspicuous for its purity of sentiment--its
+    graphic and vigorous style--its truthful delineations of
+    character--and deep and powerful interest of its plot. Price 38
+    cents.
+
+ARRAH NEIL. A novel by G. P. R. James. Price 50 cents.
+
+SIEGE OF LONDONDERRY. A History of the Siege of Londonderry, and Defence
+    of Enniskillen, in 1688 and 1689, by the Rev. John Graham. Price 37
+    cents.
+
+VICTIMS OF AMUSEMENTS. By Martha Clark, and dedicated by the author to
+    the Sabbath Schools of the land. One vol., cloth, 38 cents.
+
+FREAKS OF FORTUNE; or, The Life and Adventures of Ned Lorn. By the
+    author of "Wild Western Scenes." One volume, cloth. Price One
+    Dollar.
+
+
+WORKS AT TWENTY-FIVE CENTS EACH.
+
+GENTLEMAN'S SCIENCE OF ETIQUETTE, AND GUIDE TO SOCIETY. By Count Alfred
+    D'Orsay With a portrait of Count D'Orsay. Price 25 cents.
+
+LADIES' SCIENCE OF ETIQUETTE. By Countess de Calabrella, with her
+    full-length portrait. Price 25 cents.
+
+ELLA STRATFORD; OR, THE ORPHAN CHILD. By the Countess of Blessington. A
+    charming and entertaining work. Price 25 cents.
+
+GHOST STORIES. Full of illustrations. Being a Wonderful Book. Price 25
+    cents.
+
+ADMIRAL'S DAUGHTER. By Mrs. Marsh, author of "Ravenscliffe." One volume,
+    octavo. Price 25 cents.
+
+THE MONK. A Romance. By Matthew G. Lewis, Esq., M. P. All should read
+    it. Price 25 cents.
+
+DIARY OF A PHYSICIAN. Second Series. By S. C. Warren, author of "Ten
+    Thousand a Year." Illustrated. Price 25 cents.
+
+ABEDNEGO, THE MONEY LENDER. By Mrs. Gore. Price 25 cents.
+
+MADISON'S EXPOSITION OF THE AWFUL CEREMONIES OF ODD FELLOWSHIP, with 20
+    plates. Price 25 cents.
+
+GLIDDON'S ANCIENT EGYPT, HER MONUMENTS, HIEROGLYPHICS, HISTORY, ETC.
+    Full of plates. Price 25 cents.
+
+BEAUTIFUL FRENCH GIRL; or the Daughter of Monsieur Fontanbleu. Price 25
+    cents.
+
+MYSTERIES OF BEDLAM; OR, ANNALS OF THE LONDON MADHOUSE. Price 25 cents.
+
+JOSEPHINE. A Story of the Heart. By Grace Aguilar, author of "Home
+    Influence," "Mother's Recompense," etc. Price 25 cents.
+
+EVA ST. CLAIR; AND OTHER TALES. By G. P. R. James, Esq., author of
+    "Richelieu." Price 25 cents.
+
+AGNES GREY; AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. By the author of "Jane Eyre," "Shirley,"
+    etc. Price 25 cents.
+
+BELL BRANDON, AND THE WITHERED FIG TREE. By P. Hamilton Myers. A Three
+    Hundred Dollar prize novel. Price 25 cents.
+
+KNOWLSON'S COMPLETE CATTLE, OR COW DOCTOR. Whoever owns a cow should
+    have this book. Price 25 cents.
+
+KNOWLSON'S COMPLETE FARRIER, OR HORSE DOCTOR. All that own a horse
+    should possess this work. Price 25 cents.
+
+THE COMPLETE KITCHEN AND FRUIT GARDENER, FOR POPULAR AND GENERAL USE.
+    Price 25 cents.
+
+THE COMPLETE FLORIST; OR FLOWER GARDENER. The best in the world. Price
+    25 cents.
+
+THE EMIGRANT SQUIRE. By author of "Bell Brandon." 25 cents.
+
+PHILIP IN SEARCH OF A WIFE. By the author of "Kate in Search of a
+    Husband." Price 25 cents.
+
+MYSTERIES OF A CONVENT. By a noted Methodist Preacher. Price 25 cents.
+
+THE ORPHAN SISTERS. It is a tale such as Miss Austen might have been
+    proud of, and Goldsmith would not have disowned. It is well told,
+    and excites a strong interest. Price 25 cents.
+
+THE DEFORMED. One of the best novels ever written, and THE CHARITY
+    SISTER. By Hon. Mrs. Norton. Price 25 cents.
+
+LIFE IN NEW YORK. IN DOORS AND OUT OF DOORS. By the late William Burns.
+    Illustrated by Forty Engravings. Price 25 cents.
+
+JENNY AMBROSE; OR, LIFE IN THE EASTERN STATES. An excellent book. Price
+    25 cents.
+
+MORETON HALL; OR, THE SPIRITS OF THE HAUNTED HOUSE. A Tale founded on
+    Facts. Price 25 cents.
+
+RODY THE ROVER; OR THE RIBBON MAN. An Irish Tale. By William Carleton.
+    One volume, octavo. Price 25 cents.
+
+AMERICA'S MISSION. By Rev. Charles Wadsworth. Price 25 cents.
+
+POLITICS IN RELIGION. By Rev. Charles Wadsworth. Price 12½ cts.
+
+
+Professor LIEBIG'S Works on Chemistry.
+
+AGRICULTURAL CHEMISTRY. Chemistry in its application to Agriculture and
+    Physiology. Price Twenty-five cents.
+
+ANIMAL CHEMISTRY. Chemistry in its application to Physiology and
+    Pathology. Price Twenty-five cents.
+
+FAMILIAR LETTERS ON CHEMISTRY, and its relations to Commerce, Physiology
+    and Agriculture.
+
+THE POTATO DISEASE. Researches into the motion of the Juices in the
+    animal body.
+
+CHEMISTRY AND PHYSICS IN RELATION TO PHYSIOLOGY AND PATHOLOGY.
+
+T. B. PETERSON also publishes a complete edition of Professor Liebig's
+works on Chemistry, comprising the whole of the above. They are bound in
+one large royal octavo volume, in Muslin gilt. Price for the complete
+works bound in one volume, One Dollar and Fifty cents. The three last
+are not published separately from the bound volume.
+
+
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+
+THE SEVEN POOR TRAVELLERS. By Charles Dickens. Price 12½ cts.
+
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+
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+
+CHRISTMAS CAROL. By Charles Dickens. Price 12½ cents.
+
+LIZZIE LEIGH, AND THE MINER'S DAUGHTERS. By Charles Dickens. Price
+    12½ cents.
+
+THE CHIMES. By Charles Dickens. Price 12½ cents.
+
+THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH. By Charles Dickens. Price 12½ cts.
+
+BATTLE OF LIFE. By Charles Dickens. Price 12½ cents.
+
+HAUNTED MAN; AND THE GHOST'S BARGAIN. By Charles Dickens. Price 12½
+    cents.
+
+THE YELLOW MASK. From Dickens' Household Words. Price 12½ cts.
+
+A WIFE'S STORY. From Dickens' Household Words. Price 12½ cts.
+
+MOTHER AND STEPMOTHER. By Dickens. Price 12½ cents.
+
+ODD FELLOWSHIP EXPOSED. With all the Signs, Grips, Pass-words, etc.
+    Illustrated. Price 12½ cents.
+
+MORMONISM EXPOSED. Full of Engravings, and Portraits of the Twelve
+    Apostles. Price 12½ cents.
+
+THE LIFE AND DEATH OF THE REV. JOHN N. MAFFIT; with his Portrait. Price
+    12½ cents.
+
+REV. ALBERT BARNES ON THE MAINE LIQUOR LAW. THE THRONE OF INIQUITY; or,
+    sustaining Evil by Law. A discourse in behalf of a law prohibiting
+    the traffic in intoxicating drinks Price 12½ cents.
+
+WOMAN. DISCOURSE ON WOMAN. HER SPHERE, DUTIES, ETC. By Lucretia Mott.
+    Price 12½ cents.
+
+EUCHRE. THE GAME OF EUCHRE, AND ITS LAWS. By a member of the Euchre Club
+    of Philadelphia of Thirty Years' standing. Price 12½ cents.
+
+DR. BERG'S ANSWER TO ARCHBISHOP HUGHES. Price 12½ cents.
+
+DR. BERG'S LECTURE ON THE JESUITS. Price 12½ cents.
+
+FRESH FRUITS AND VEGETABLES all the Year round, at Summer prices, and
+    how to obtain and have them, with full directions. 12½ cents.
+
+=T. B. PETERSON'S Wholesale & Retail Cheap Book, Magazine, Newspaper,
+Publishing and Bookselling Establishment, is at No. 102 Chestnut Street,
+Philadelphia:=
+
+From which place he will supply all orders for any books at all, no
+matter by whom published, in advance of all others, and at publishers'
+lowest cash prices. He respectfully invites Country Merchants,
+Booksellers, Pedlars, Canvassers, Agents, the Trade, Strangers to the
+City, and the public generally, to call and examine his extensive
+collection of all kinds of publications, where they will be sure to find
+all the _best, latest, and cheapest works_ published in this country or
+elsewhere, for sale very low.
+
+
+
+
+THE DESERTED WIFE.
+
+BY MRS. EMMA D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH.
+
+AUTHOR OF "THE LOST HEIRESS," "THE MISSING BRIDE," "WIFE'S VICTORY,"
+"CURSE OF CLIFTON," "DISCARDED DAUGHTER," ETC., ETC.
+
+Complete in one vol., bound in cloth, for One Dollar and Twenty-five
+Cents; or in two vols., paper cover, for One Dollar.
+
+The announcement of a new book by Mrs. Southworth, the author of "The
+Lost Heiress," is a matter of great interest to all that love to read
+and admire pure and chaste American works. It is a new work of unusual
+power and thrilling interest. The scene is laid in one of the southern
+States, and the story gives a picture of the manners and customs of the
+planting gentry, in an age not far removed backward from the present.
+The characters are drawn with a strong hand, and the book abounds with
+scenes of intense interest, the whole plot being wrought out with much
+power and effect; and no one, we are confident, can read it without
+acknowledging that it possesses more than ordinary merit. The author is
+a writer of remarkable genius and originality--manifesting wonderful
+power in the vivid depicting of character, and in her glowing
+descriptions of scenery. Hagar, the heroine of the "Deserted Wife," is a
+magnificent being, while Raymond, Gusty, and Mr. Withers, are not merely
+names, but existences--they live and move before us, each acting in
+accordance with his peculiar nature. The purpose of the author,
+professedly, is to teach the lesson, "that the fundamental causes of
+unhappiness in a married life, are a defective moral and _physical_
+education, and a premature contraction of the matrimonial engagement."
+It is a book to read and reflect on, and one that cannot fail to do an
+immense amount of good, and will rank as one of the brightest and purest
+ornaments among the literature of this country.
+
+READ THE SUBJECT MATTER OF THE DIFFERENT CHAPTERS.
+
+  Marriage and Divorce.
+  The Old Mansion House.
+  The Aged Pastor.
+  The Old Man's Darling.
+  The Evil Eye.
+  The Philosopher.
+  The Young Lieutenant.
+  First Love.
+  Magnetism.
+  The Phantom's Warning.
+  The Wanderer's Death.
+  Raymond.
+  Fanaticism.
+  Hagar.
+  Rosalia.
+  The Attic.
+  Gusty.
+  The Moor.
+  The Storm.
+  The Lunatic's End.
+  The Hunt.
+  La Lionne de Chase.
+  Hagar's Bridal.
+  The Love Angel.
+  The Bride's Trial.
+  The Forsaken House.
+  The New Home.
+  The Midshipman's Love.
+  The Worship of Joy.
+  The Wife's Rival.
+  The New Medea.
+  The Bleeding Heart.
+  The Baptism of Grief.
+  Fascination.
+  The Forsaken.
+  The Fiery Trial.
+  Return to the Desolate Home.
+  Hagar at Heath Hall.
+  The Flight of Rosalia.
+  The Worship of Sorrow.
+  God the Consoler.
+  Hagar's Resurrection.
+  A Revelation.
+  Family Secrets.
+  Rosalia's Wanderings.
+  The Queen of Song.
+  Rappings at Heath Hall.
+  Hagar's Ovation.
+
+T. B. PETERSON also publishes a complete and uniform edition of Mrs
+Southworth's other works, any one or all of which, of either edition,
+will be sent to any place in the United States, _free of postage_, on
+receipt of remittances. The following are their names.
+
+THE LOST HEIRESS. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. With a Portrait and
+    Autograph of the author. Complete in two volumes, paper cover. Price
+    One Dollar; or in one volume, cloth, for One Dollar and Twenty-five
+    cents.
+
+THE MISSING BRIDE; or, MIRIAM THE AVENGER. By Mrs. Southworth. Two
+    volumes, paper cover. Price One Dollar; or bound in one volume,
+    cloth, for $1.25.
+
+THE WIFE'S VICTORY; AND NINE OTHER NOUVELLETTES. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N.
+    Southworth. It is embellished with a view of Prospect Cottage, the
+    residence of the author. Two vols., paper cover. Price One Dollar;
+    or one volume, cloth, for $1.25.
+
+THE CURSE OF CLIFTON. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. Complete in two
+    volumes, paper cover. Price One Dollar; or bound in one volume,
+    cloth, for $1.25.
+
+THE DISCARDED DAUGHTER. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. Complete in
+    two volumes. Price in paper cover, One Dollar; or bound in one
+    volume, cloth, for $1.25.
+
+  Published and for Sale by             T. B. PETERSON,
+      No. 102 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia.
+
+
+
+
+THE LOST HEIRESS.
+
+BY MRS. EMMA D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH.
+
+Read the Brief Extracts from Lengthy Opinions given by the Press.
+
+"It presents some of the most noble and beautiful models of virtue, in
+private and in public life, that ever came to us through a similar medium.
+It must have a moral, religious, and elevating tendency."--_Godey's Lady's
+Book._
+
+"Its pages can be read, and re-read with renewed pleasure. The
+characters stand out in bold relief. The incidents are well told, and
+the interest never flags for a moment. It is a book not to be
+forgotten."--_Evening Bulletin._
+
+"Maud Hunter, the heroine, is a beautiful creation, whose history will
+be perused with intense interest, and moistened eyes, by every
+sympathetic reader. The moral tone is pure and healthy, breathing the
+spirit of true religion."--_Boston Transcript._
+
+"Its chasteness of morals, and its exalted role of virtue pervades every
+page. We would desire it to become a parlor table-book in every
+family."--_N. Y. Sunday Times._
+
+"It will sustain the already enviable reputation of the author. The
+character of Maud is as near perfection as anything human could be. A
+deep and thrilling interest pervades the whole work."--_N. Y. Spirit of
+the Times._
+
+"We have perused it with care and an unanticipated pleasure. The author
+displays skill and power. The plot is very well laid. The moral is
+good."--_Boston Congregationalist._
+
+"This work is written with much ability. We have perused the whole of
+it, and been greatly edified. It is far superior to, and more brilliant
+than _The Lamplighter_."--_Daily Orleanian, N. O._
+
+"It is a beautifully written, and absorbingly interesting work,
+which no one can commence without following it eagerly to the
+conclusion."--_Reading Gazette and Democrat._
+
+"It shows great ability, a vivid imagination, and descriptive powers of
+a very high order. It will be read with avidity."--_Saturday Evening
+Mail._
+
+"The characters are all drawn to the life. Those who are fond of a good
+book should read it."--_Union Harrisburg, Pa._
+
+"She is a writer of genius and originality, and has no superior in
+depicting character and scenery."--_Buffalo Courier._
+
+"Great power and originality--graphic, brilliant and moral. She has
+hosts of admirers."--_Wheeling Intelligencer._
+
+"We always read her creations with great pleasure. It is a charming
+work,"--_Boston Sunday News._
+
+"It will be read with much interest. She is a pleasant writer, and has a
+high reputation."--_Boston Traveler._
+
+"It possesses great fertility of genius, and incidents of deep
+pathos."--_Nat. Intelligencer._
+
+"The plot is well wrought, and possesses an interest that is preserved
+to the last page of the book."--_Sunday Mercury._
+
+"It is her last and best work, and she has composed it with more than
+usual care."--_Sunday Dispatch._
+
+"The story is intensely interesting. The authoress has an established
+reputation."--_Richmond Dispatch._
+
+"She is a writer of remarkable genius and originality."--_N. Y. Sunday
+Mercury._
+
+"It is a most entertaining volume. The writer is winning great
+popularity."--_Balt. Sun._
+
+"The Lost Heiress is a novel of great interest. The characters are well
+depicted, and exhibited in colors as vivid as they are beautiful, and
+are invested with a charm which the reader will linger over in memory,
+long after he shall have closed the book."--_Newark Daily Eagle._
+
+Price for the complete work, in two volumes of over 500 pages, in paper
+cover, One Dollar only; or another edition, handsomely bound in one
+volume, cloth, gilt, is published for One Dollar and Twenty-Five Cents.
+
+Copies of the above work will be sent to any person, to any part of the
+United States, _free of postage_, on their remitting the price of the
+edition they may wish, to the publisher, in a letter, post-paid.
+
+  Published and for sale by       T. B. PETERSON,
+      No. 102 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia.
+
+
+
+
+THE WIFE'S VICTORY;
+
+AND NINE OTHER NOUVELLETTES.
+
+BY MRS. EMMA D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH.
+
+Being the Most Splendid Pictures of American Life Ever Written.
+
+=Complete in two volumes, paper cover, Price One Dollar, or bound in one
+volume, cloth, for $1.25.=
+
+T. B. PETERSON has just published this new and celebrated work by Mrs.
+Southworth. The volume contains, besides "THE WIFE'S VICTORY," NINE OF
+THE MOST CELEBRATED NOUVELLETTES ever written by this favorite and
+world-renowned American author, and it will prove to be one of the most
+popular works ever issued. The names of the Nouvellettes contained in
+"The Wife's Victory," are as follows:
+
+  =THE WIFE'S VICTORY.=
+  =THE MARRIED SHREW; a Sequel to the Wife's Victory.=
+  =SYBIL BROTHERTON; or, The Temptation.=
+  =THE IRISH REFUGEE.=
+  =EVELINE MURRAY; or, The Fine Figure.=
+  =WINNY.=
+  =THE THREE SISTERS; or, New Year's in the Little Rough Cast House.=
+  =ANNIE GREY; or, Neighbor's Prescriptions.=
+  =ACROSS THE STREET: a New Year's Story.=
+  =THUNDERBOLT TO THE HEARTH.=
+
+THE WIFE'S VICTORY will be found, on perusal by all, to be equal, if not
+superior, to any of the previous works by this celebrated American
+authoress, who is now conceded by all critics to be the best female
+writer now living, and her works to be the greatest novels in the
+English language, as well as the most splendid pictures of American life
+ever written. Either one of the ten nouvellettes contained in this
+volume, is of itself fully worth the price of the whole book. The
+_Philadelphia Daily Sun_ says, in its editorial columns, that it shows
+all the grace, vigor, and absorbing interest of her previous works, and
+places Mrs. Southworth in the front rank of living novelists; and that
+indescribable charm pervades all her works, which can only emanate from
+a female mind. Though America has produced many examples of high
+intellect in her sex, none are destined to a higher range in the annals
+of fame, or more enduring popularity. It is embellished with a
+beautifully engraved vignette title page, executed on steel, in the
+finest style of the art, as well as a view of Brotherton Hall,
+illustrative of one of the most interesting places and scenes in the
+work.
+
+"Mrs. Southworth is the finest authoress in the country. Her style is
+forcible and bold. There is an exciting interest throughout all her
+compositions, which renders them the most popular novels in the English
+language."--_New York Mirror._
+
+"Her pictures of life are vivid and truthful."--_Sunday Times._
+
+"She is a woman of brilliant genius."--_Olive Branch._
+
+"She is the best fiction writer in the country."--_Buffalo Express._
+
+Copies of the above work will be sent to any person at all, to any part
+of the United States, _free of postage_, on their remitting the price of
+the edition they may wish, to the publisher, in a letter, post-paid.
+
+  Published and for sale by          T. B. PETERSON,
+      No. 102 Chestnut St., Philadelphia.
+
+
+
+
+GREAT INDUCEMENTS FOR 1856
+
+NOW IS THE TIME TO MAKE UP CLUBS!
+
+PETERSON'S MAGAZINE
+
+The best and cheapest in the World for Ladies.
+
+EDITED BY MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS AND CHARLES J. PETERSON.
+
+This popular Magazine, already the cheapest and best Monthly of its kind
+in the world, _will be greatly improved for_ 1856. It will contain 900
+pages of double-column reading matter; from twenty to thirty Steel
+Plates; and _over four hundred_ Wood Engravings: which is
+proportionately more than any periodical, of any price, ever yet gave.
+
+_ITS THRILLING ORIGINAL STORIES_
+
+Are pronounced, by the press, _the best published anywhere_. The editors
+are Mrs. Ann S. Stephens, author of "The Old Homestead." "Fashion and
+Famine," and Charles J. Peterson, author of "Kate Aylesford." "The Valley
+Farm," etc., etc.; and they are assisted by all the most popular female
+writers of America. New talent is continually being added, _regardless of
+expense_, so as to keep "Peterson's Magazine" unapproachable in merit.
+Morality and virtue are always inculcated.
+
+ITS COLORED FASHION PLATES IN ADVANCE.
+
+--> _It is the only Magazine whose Fashion Plates can be relied on._ <--
+
+Each Number contains a Fashion Plate, engraved on Steel, colored _a la
+mode_, and of unrivalled beauty. The Paris, London, Philadelphia, and
+New York Fashions are described, at length, each month. Every number
+also contains a dozen or more New Styles, engraved on Wood. Also, a
+Pattern, from which a dress, mantilla, or child's costume, can be cut,
+without the aid of a mantua-maker, so that each number, in this way,
+will _save a year's subscription_.
+
+Its superb Mezzotints, and other Steel Engravings.
+
+Its Illustrations excel those of any other Magazine, each number
+containing a superb Steel Engraving, either mezzotint or line, beside
+the Fashion Plate; and, in addition, numerous other Engravings, Wood
+Cuts, Patterns, &c., &c. The Engravings, at the end of the year, _alone_
+are worth the subscription price.
+
+PATTERNS FOR CROTCHET, NEEDLEWORK, etc.,
+
+In the greatest profusion, are given in every number, with Instructions
+how to work them; also, Patterns in Embroidery, Inserting, Broiderie
+Anglaise, Netting, Lace-making, &c., &c. Also, Patterns for Sleeves,
+Collars, and Chemisettes; Patterns in Bead-work, Hair-work, Shell-work;
+Handkerchief Corners; Names for Marking and Initials. Each number
+contains a Paper Flower, with directions how to make it. A piece of new
+and fashionable Music is also published every month. On the whole, it is
+the _most complete Ladies Magazine in the World_. TRY IT FOR ONE YEAR.
+
+TERMS:--ALWAYS IN ADVANCE.
+
+  One copy for One Year,        $ 2 00
+  Three copies for One Year,      5 00
+  Five copies for One Year,     $ 7 50
+  Eight copies for One Year,     10 00
+  Sixteen copies for One Year,  $20 00
+
+=PREMIUMS FOR GETTING UP CLUBS.=
+
+Three, Five, Eight, or Sixteen copies, make a Club. To every person
+getting up a Club, our "Port-Folio of Art," containing _Fifty_
+Engravings, will be given gratis; or, if preferred, a copy of the
+Magazine for 1855. For a Club of Sixteen, an extra copy of the Magazine
+for 1856, will be sent _in addition_.
+
+  _Address, post-paid_, CHARLES J. PETERSON,
+      No. 102 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia.
+
+--> Specimens sent, gratuitously, if written for, post-paid.
+
+--> All Postmasters constituted Agents. But any person may get up a
+Club.
+
+--> Persons remitting will please get the Postmaster to register their
+letters, in which case the remittance may be at our risk. When the sum
+is large, a draft should be procured, the cost of which may be deducted
+from the amount.
+
+
+
+
+T. B. PETERSON'S
+
+WHOLESALE AND RETAIL
+
+Cheap Book, Magazine, Newspaper, Publishing and Bookselling
+Establishment, is at
+
+=No. 102 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia.=
+
+
+T. B. PETERSON has the satisfaction to announce to the public, that he
+has removed to the new and spacious BROWN STONE BUILDING, NO. 102
+CHESTNUT STREET, just completed by the city authorities on the Girard
+Estate, known as the most central and best situation in the city of
+Philadelphia. As it is the Model Book Store of the Country, we will
+describe it: It is the largest, most spacious, and best arranged Retail
+and Wholesale Cheap Book and Publishing Establishment in the United
+States. It is built, by the Girard Estate, of Connecticut sand-stone, in
+a richly ornamental style. The whole front of the lower story, except
+that taken up by the doorway, is occupied by two large plate glass
+windows, a single plate to each window, costing together over three
+thousand dollars. On entering and looking up, you find above you a
+ceiling sixteen feet high; while, on gazing before, you perceive a vista
+of One Hundred and Fifty-Seven feet. The retail counters extend back for
+eighty feet, and, being double, afford counter-room of One Hundred and
+Sixty feet in length. There is also over _Three Thousand feet of
+shelving in the retail part of the store alone_. This part is devoted to
+the retail business, and as it is the most spacious in the country,
+furnishes also the best and largest assortment of all kinds of books to
+be found in the country. It is fitted up in the most superb style; the
+shelvings are all painted in Florence white, with gilded cornices for
+the book shelves.
+
+Behind the retail part of the store, at about ninety foot from the
+entrance, is the counting-room, twenty feet square, railed neatly off,
+and surmounted by a most beautiful dome of stained glass. In the rear of
+this is the wholesale and packing department, extending a further
+distance of about sixty feet, with desks and packing counters for the
+establishment, etc., etc. All goods are received and shipped from the
+back of the store, having a fine avenue on the side of Girard Bank for
+the purpose, leading out to Third Street, so as not to interfere with
+and block up the front of the store on Chestnut Street. The cellar, of
+the entire depth of the store, is filled with printed copies of Mr.
+Peterson's own publications, printed from his own stereotype plates, of
+which he generally keeps on hand an edition of a thousand each, making a
+stock, of his own publications alone, of over three hundred thousand
+volumes, constantly on hand.
+
+T. B. PETERSON is warranted in saying, that he is able to offer such
+inducements to the Trade, and all others, to favor him with their
+orders, as cannot be excelled by any book establishment in the country.
+In proof of this, T. B. PETERSON begs leave to refer to his great
+facilities of getting stock of all kinds, his dealing direct with all
+the Publishing Houses in the country, and also to his own long list of
+Publications, consisting of the best and most popular productions of the
+most talented authors of the United States and Great Britain, and to his
+very extensive stock, embracing every work, new or old, published in the
+United States.
+
+T. B. PETERSON will be most happy to supply all orders for any books at
+all, no matter by whom published, in advance of all others, and at
+publishers' lowest cash prices. He respectfully invites Country
+Merchants, Booksellers, Pedlars, Canvassers, Agents, the Trade,
+Strangers in the city, and the public generally, to call and examine his
+extensive collection of cheap and standard publications of all kinds,
+comprising a most magnificent collection of CHEAP BOOKS, MAGAZINES,
+NOVELS, STANDARD and POPULAR WORKS of all kinds, BIBLES, PRAYER BOOKS,
+ANNUALS, GIFT BOOKS, ILLUSTRATED WORKS, ALBUMS and JUVENILE WORKS of all
+kinds, GAMES of all kinds, to suit all ages, tastes, etc., which he is
+selling to his customers and the public at much lower prices than they
+can be purchased elsewhere. Being located at No. 102 CHESTNUT Street,
+the great thoroughfare of the city, and BUYING his stock outright in
+large quantities, and not selling on commission, he can and will sell
+them on such terms as will defy all competition. Call and examine our
+stock, you will find it to be the best, largest and cheapest in the
+city; and you will also be sure to find all the _best, latest, popular,
+and cheapest works_ published in this country or elsewhere, for sale at
+the lowest prices.
+
+--> Call in person and examine our stock, or send your orders by _mail
+direct_, to the CHEAP BOOKSELLING and PUBLISHING ESTABLISHMENT of
+
+  =T. B. PETERSON,
+      No. 102 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia.=
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note
+
+
+The following typographical errors were corrected:
+
+   13  _Collins_ changed to _Collins._
+   14  ornament than use changed to ornament than use.
+   17  I be!'" changed to I be!'
+   18  few moments" changed to few moments,"
+   20  and God wont changed to and God won't
+   29  merry-making and frolicking changed to merry-making and frolicking.
+   32  _Milton_ changed to _Milton._
+   40  repeated Helen, changed to repeated Helen.
+   50  and she wont changed to and she won't
+   52  than a cipher changed to than a cipher.
+   53  study hereafter. changed to study hereafter."
+   54  she is sleeping changed to "she is sleeping
+   55  waiting for her changed to waiting for her.
+   71  whispered Helen changed to  whispered Helen.
+   71  in or out changed to in or out.
+   72  "'Now," changed to "'Now,'
+   73  child did'nt changed to child didn't
+   77  mild summer evening, changed to mild summer evening.
+   82  to love her changed to to love her.
+   86  It's nobody but changed to "It's nobody but
+   90  the young doctor changed to the young doctor.
+   91  blessed light? changed to blessed light?"
+  113  and more pervading changed to and more pervading.
+  116  dissappointment changed to disappointment
+  119  gloriou changed to glorious
+  120  ancestral figure of Misss changed to ancestral figure of Miss
+  128  deep,tranquil,refreshing changed to deep, tranquil, refreshing
+  128  joyious changed to joyous
+  133  to see me. changed to to see me."
+  139  It is all changed to "It is all
+  148  he had roused, changed to he had roused.
+  149  said Mrs. leason changed to said Mrs. Gleason
+  155  going tomorrow changed to going to-morrow
+  162  whithering changed to withering
+  164  I believe I changed to "I believe I
+  166  shant changed to shan't
+  176  corruscate changed to coruscate
+  179  "'Not poppy, changed to 'Not poppy,
+  180  his own experience?" changed to his own experience?
+  184  which wont be changed to which won't be
+  190  _Shakspeare_ changed to _Shakspeare._
+  205  Poor child!. changed to Poor child!
+  217  abscence changed to absence
+  221  not very call changed to not very
+  229  _Hymn_ changed to _Hymn._
+  233  dissappointed changed to disappointed
+  241  OLIVER TWIST changed to OLIVER TWIST,
+  243  INDA; changed to LINDA;
+  243  etter books changed to better books
+  245  with many Husbands changed to with many Husbands.
+  245  PASSION AND PRINCIPLE changed to PASSION AND PRINCIPLE.
+  245  HE BARONET'S changed to THE BARONET'S
+  247  OUISE LA VALLIERE changed to LOUISE LA VALLIERE
+  247  538 pages, wit changed to 538 pages, with
+  249  Love." etc. changed to Love," etc.
+  253  equal to th changed to equal to the
+  259  _the_ Lamplighter.'" changed to _The Lamplighter_."
+  262  Philadelphia, changed to Philadelphia.
+
+The following words had inconsistent spelling and hyphenation.
+
+  ecstacy / ecstasy
+  eyelids / eye-lids
+  fireside / fire-side
+  jailer / jailor
+  needlework / needle-work
+  penknife / pen-knife
+  waterfall / water-fall
+  wayside / way-side
+  workbox / work-box
+
+Other inconsistencies found in the text:
+
+Prices on the advertising pages were printed with a period or a space or
+a comma between the dollars and cents. This inconsistency has been
+maintained.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Helen and Arthur, by Caroline Lee Hentz
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HELEN AND ARTHUR ***
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+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of Helen and Arthur; or, Miss Thusa's Spinning Wheel, by Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz.
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+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Helen and Arthur, by Caroline Lee Hentz
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Helen and Arthur
+       or, Miss Thusa's Spinning Wheel
+
+Author: Caroline Lee Hentz
+
+Release Date: October 20, 2007 [EBook #23106]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HELEN AND ARTHUR ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Julia Miller and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
+
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+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+<div style="background-color: #EEE; color: inherit; padding: 0.5em 1em 0.5em 1em;">
+<p class="center"><b>Transcriber&#8217;s&nbsp;Note</b></p>
+
+<p class="noindent">Transcriber&#8217;s Note</p>
+
+<p class="noindent">Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. A list of changes is
+found at the end of this text. A small number of words were spelled
+or hyphenated inconsistently. These inconsistencies have been maintained
+and a list is found at the end of the text.</p>
+
+<p class="noindent">The following less-common characters have been used. If they do not
+display properly, please try changing your font.</p>
+
+<p class="noindent">&#339;  oe ligature<br />
+&#338;  OE ligature</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="titlepage" style="margin-top: 2em; line-height: 2em;"><span style="font-size: 200%;">HELEN AND ARTHUR;</span><br />
+
+<span style="font-size: 90%;">OR,</span><br />
+
+<span style="font-size: 150%;">Miss Thusa&#8217;s Spinning Wheel.</span></p>
+
+<p class="titlepage">BY</p>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><span style="font-size: 150%;">MRS. CAROLINE LEE HENTZ.</span><br />
+
+<span style="font-size: 90%;">AUTHOR OF &#8220;LINDA,&#8221; &#8220;COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE,&#8221; &#8220;PLANTER&#8217;S NORTHERN BRIDE,&#8221;<br />
+&#8220;LOVE AFTER MARRIAGE,&#8221; &#8220;EOLINE,&#8221; &#8220;RENA,&#8221; ETC.</span></p>
+
+<hr class="ads" />
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>Complete in one large volume, bound in cloth, price One Dollar and
+Twenty-five cents, or in two volumes, paper cover, for One Dollar.</em></p>
+
+<hr class="ads" />
+
+<p class="adtitles">READ WHAT SOME OF THE LEADING EDITORS SAY OF IT:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This book, by one of the most popular authors in the country, has been
+issued in the publisher&#8217;s very best style. There are but few readers of
+the current literature of the day, who are not acquainted with the name,
+and the stories of this authoress. Her style is a pleasing one, and her
+stories usually strongly marked in incident. The volume now published
+abounds with the most beautiful scenic descriptions, and displays an
+intimate acquaintance with all phases of human character; all the
+characters being exceedingly well drawn. The moral is of a most
+wholesome character, and the plot, incidents, and management, give
+evidence of great tact, skill and judgment, on the part of the writer.
+It is a work which the oldest and the youngest may alike read with
+profit.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Dollar Newspaper.</cite></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is a tale of Southern life, where Mrs. Hentz is peculiarly at home,
+and so far as we have had time to examine it, it gives proofs of
+possessing all the excellencies that have already made her writings so
+popular throughout the country. The sound, healthy tone of all Mrs.
+Hentz&#8217;s tales makes them safe as well as delightful reading, and we can
+safely and warmly recommend it to all who delight in agreeable fictions.
+Mr. Peterson has published it in a beautifully printed volume.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Evening
+Bulletin.</cite></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A story of domestic life, written in Mrs. Hentz&#8217;s best vein. The
+details of the plot are skilfully elaborated, and many passages are
+deeply pathetic.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Commercial Advertiser.</cite></p>
+
+<p class="adtitles">MRS. CAROLINE LEE HENTZ&#8217;S OTHER WORKS.</p>
+
+<p>T. B. Peterson having purchased the stereotype plates of all the
+writings of Mrs. Hentz, he has just published a new, uniform and
+beautiful edition of all her works, printed on a much finer and better
+paper, and in far superior and better style to what they have ever
+before been issued in, (all in uniform style with Helen and Arthur,)
+copies of any one or all of which will be sent to any place in the
+United States, free of postage, on receipt of remittances. Each book
+contains a beautiful illustration of one of the best scenes. The
+following are the names of these celebrated works:</p>
+
+<p class="hanging"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span>LINDA. THE YOUNG PILOT OF THE BELLE CREOLE. Complete in two volumes,
+paper cover, price One Dol., or bound in one volume, cloth gilt,
+$1.25.</p>
+
+<p class="review">&#8220;We hail with pleasure this contribution to the literature of the South.
+Works containing faithful delineations of Southern life, society, and
+scenery, whether in the garb of romance or in the soberer attire of
+simple narrative, cannot fail to have a salutary influence in correcting
+the false impressions which prevail in regard to our people and
+institutions; and our thanks are due to Mrs. Hentz for the addition she
+has made to this department of our native literature. We cannot close
+without expressing a hope that &#8216;Linda&#8217; may be followed by many other
+works of the same class from the pen of its gifted author.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Southern
+Literary Gazette.</cite></p>
+
+<p class="review">&#8220;Mrs. Hentz has given us here a very delightful romance, illustrative of
+life in the South-west, on a Mississippi plantation. There is a
+well-wrought love-plot; the characters are well drawn; the incidents are
+striking and novel; the <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">d&eacute;nouement</span> happy, and moral excellent. Mrs.
+Hentz may twine new laurels above her &#8216;Mob Cap.&#8217;&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Evening Bulletin.</cite></p>
+
+<p class="hanging">ROBERT GRAHAM. The Sequel to, and continuation of Linda. Complete in two
+large volumes, paper cover, price One Dol., or bound in one volume,
+cloth gilt, $1.25.</p>
+
+<p class="review">&#8220;We cannot admire too much, nor thank Mrs. Hentz too sincerely for the
+high and ennobling morality and Christian grace, which not only pervade
+her entire writings, but which shine forth with undimmed beauty in the
+new novel, Robert Graham. It sustains the character which is very
+difficult to well delineate in a work of fiction&mdash;<em>a religious
+missionary</em>. All who read the work will bear testimony to the entire
+success of Mrs. Hentz.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Boston Transcript.</cite></p>
+
+<p class="review">&#8220;The thousands who read &#8216;Linda, or, the Young Pilot of the Belle
+Creole,&#8217; will make haste to procure a copy of this book, which is a
+sequel to that history. Like all of this writer&#8217;s works, it is natural
+and graphic, and very entertaining.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>City Item.</cite></p>
+
+<p class="review">&#8220;A charming novel; and in point of plot, style, and all the other
+characteristics of a readable romance, it will compare favorably with
+almost any of the many publications of the season.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Literary Gazette.</cite></p>
+
+<p class="hanging">RENA; or, THE SNOW BIRD. A Tale of Real Life. Complete in two volumes,
+paper cover, price One Dol., or bound in one volume, cloth gilt,
+$1.25.</p>
+
+<p class="review">&#8220;&#8216;Rena; or, the Snow Bird&#8217; elicits a thrill of deep and exquisite
+pleasure, even exceeding that which accompanied &#8216;Linda,&#8217; which was
+generally admitted to be the best story ever written for a newspaper.
+That was certainly high praise, but &#8216;Rena&#8217; takes precedence even of its
+predecessor, and, in both, Mrs. Lee Hentz has achieved a triumph of no
+ordinary kind. It is not that old associations bias our judgment, for
+though from the appearance, years since, of the famous &#8216;Mob Cap&#8217; in this
+paper, we formed an exalted opinion of the womanly and literary
+excellence of the writer, our feelings have, in the interim, had quite
+sufficient leisure to cool; yet, after the lapse of years, we have
+continued to maintain the same literary devotion to this best of our
+female writers. The two last productions of Mrs. Lee<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> Hentz now fully
+confirm our previously formed opinion, and we unhesitatingly commend
+&#8216;Rena,&#8217; now published in book form, in beautiful style, by T. B.
+Peterson, as a story which, in its varied, deep, and thrilling interest,
+has no superior.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>American Courier.</cite></p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE PLANTER&#8217;S NORTHERN BRIDE. With illustrations. Complete in two large
+volumes, paper cover, 600 pages, price One Dollar, or bound in one
+volume, cloth gilt, $1.25.</p>
+
+<p class="review">&#8220;We have seldom been more charmed by the perusal of a novel; and we
+desire to commend it to our readers in the strongest words of praise
+that our vocabulary affords. The incidents are well varied; the scenes
+beautifully described; and the interest admirably kept up. But the
+<em>moral</em> of the book is its highest merit. The &#8216;Planter&#8217;s Northern Bride&#8217;
+should be as welcome as the dove of peace to every fireside in the
+Union. It cannot be read without a moistening of the eyes, a softening
+of the heart, and a mitigation of sectional and most unchristian
+prejudices.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>N. Y. Mirror.</cite></p>
+
+<p class="review">&#8220;It is unquestionably the most powerful and important, if not the most
+charming work that has yet flowed from her elegant pen; and though
+evidently founded upon the all-absorbing subjects of slavery and
+abolitionism, the genius and skill of the fair author have developed new
+views of golden argument, and flung around the whole such a halo of
+pathos, interest, and beauty, as to render it every way worthy the
+author of &#8216;Linda,&#8217; &#8216;Marcus Warland,&#8217; &#8216;Rena,&#8217; and the numerous other
+literary gems from the same author.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>American Courier.</cite></p>
+
+<p class="hanging">COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE; or, THE JOYS AND SORROWS OF AMERICAN LIFE. With
+a Portrait of the Author. Complete in two large volumes, paper
+cover, price One Dollar, or bound in one volume, cloth gilt, $1.25.</p>
+
+<p class="review">&#8220;This work will be found, on perusal by all, to be one of the most
+exciting, interesting, and popular works that has ever emanated from the
+American Press. It is written in a charming style, and will elicit
+through all a thrill of deep and exquisite pleasure. It is a work which
+the oldest and the youngest may alike read with profit. It abounds with
+the most beautiful scenic descriptions; and displays an intimate
+acquaintance with all phases of human character; all the characters
+being exceedingly well drawn. It is a delightful book, full of
+incidents, oftentimes bold and startling, and describes the warm
+feelings of the Southerner in glowing colors. Indeed, all Mrs. Hentz&#8217;s
+stories aptly describe Southern life, and are highly moral in their
+application. In this field Mrs. Hentz wields a keen sickle, and harvests
+a rich and abundant crop. It will be found in plot, incident, and
+management, to be a superior work. In the whole range of elegant moral
+fiction, there cannot be found any thing of more inestimable value, or
+superior to this work, and it is a gem that will well repay a careful
+perusal. The Publisher feels assured that it will give entire
+satisfaction to all readers, encourage good taste and good morals, and
+while away many leisure hours with great pleasure and profit, and be
+recommended to others by all that peruse it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="hanging"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>MARCUS WARLAND; or, THE LONG MOSS SPRING. A Tale of the South. Complete
+in two volumes, paper cover, price One Dol., or bound in one volume,
+cloth gilt, $1.25.</p>
+
+<p class="review">&#8220;Every succeeding chapter of this new and beautiful nouvellette of Mrs.
+Hentz increases in interest and pathos. We defy any one to read aloud
+the chapters to a listening auditory, without deep emotion, or producing
+many a pearly tribute to its truthfulness, pathos, and power.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Am.
+Courier.</cite></p>
+
+<p class="review">&#8220;It is pleasant to meet now and then with a tale like this, which seems
+rather like a narrative of real events than a creature of the
+imagination.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>N. Y. Commercial Advertiser.</cite></p>
+
+<p class="hanging">AUNT PATTY&#8217;S SCRAP BAG, together with large additions to it, written by
+Mrs. Hentz, prior to her death, and never before published in any
+former edition of this or any other work. Complete in two volumes,
+paper cover, price One Dol., or bound in one volume, cloth gilt,
+$1.25.</p>
+
+<p class="review">&#8220;We venture to assert that there is not one reader who has not been made
+wiser and better by its perusal&mdash;who has not been enabled to treasure up
+golden precepts of morality, virtue, and experience, as guiding
+principles of their own commerce with the world.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>American Courier.</cite></p>
+
+<p class="hanging">LOVE AFTER MARRIAGE; and other Stories of the Heart. Complete in two
+volumes, paper cover, price One Dol., or bound in one volume, cloth
+gilt, $1.25.</p>
+
+<p class="review">&#8220;This is a charming and instructive story&mdash;one of those beautiful
+efforts that enchant the mind, refreshing and strengthening it.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>City
+Item.</cite></p>
+
+<p class="review">&#8220;The work before us is a charming one.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Boston Evening Journal.</cite></p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE BANISHED SON; and other Stories of the Heart. Complete in two
+volumes, paper cover, price One Dol., or bound in one volume, cloth
+gilt, $1.25.</p>
+
+<p class="review">&#8220;The &#8216;Banished Son&#8217; seems to us the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">chef d&#8217;&#339;uvre</em> of the collection.
+It appeals to all the nobler sentiments of humanity, is full of action
+and healthy excitement, and sets forth the best of morals.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Charleston
+News.</cite></p>
+
+<p class="hanging">EOLINE; or, MAGNOLIA VALE. Complete in two volumes, paper cover, price
+One Dol., or bound in one volume, cloth gilt, $1.25.</p>
+
+<p class="review">&#8220;We do not think that amongst American authors, there is one more
+pleasing or more instructive than Mrs. Hentz. This novel is equal to any
+which she has written.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Cincinnati Gazette.</cite></p>
+
+<p class="review"><img src="images/hand-r.jpg" width="30" height="14" alt="right-pointing hand" title="" /> Copies of either edition of any of the foregoing
+works will be sent to any person, to any part of the United States,
+<em>free of postage</em>, on their remitting the price of the ones they may
+wish, to the publisher, in a letter.</p>
+
+<div style="position: relative; width: 80%; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;">
+<p>Published and for Sale by <span class="prices" style="padding-right: 3em;">T. B. PETERSON,</span><br />
+<span class="prices"><b>No. 102 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia.</b></span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<a href="images/frontispiece-full.jpg"><img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" width="400" height="386" alt="Young couple listening to older woman, seated in front of the fireplace" title="" style="border: 0;"/></a>
+<span class="caption">I REMEMBER A TALE, SHE RESUMED</span>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1>HELEN AND ARTHUR;<br />
+
+<span style="font-size: 70%; margin-top: 2em;">OR,</span><br />
+
+<span style="font-size: 90%; margin-top: 2em;">Miss Thusa&#8217;s Spinning Wheel.</span></h1>
+
+<p class="titlepage" style="margin-top: 2em;">BY MRS. CAROLINE LEE HENTZ.<br />
+<span style="font-size: 80%">AUTHOR OF &#8220;LINDA,&#8221; &#8220;RENA,&#8221; &#8220;LOVE AFTER MARRIAGE,&#8221; &#8220;ROBERT<br />
+GRAHAM,&#8221; &#8220;EOLINE,&#8221; &#8220;COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE,&#8221; ETC.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;&mdash;&mdash;A countenance in which did meet<br />
+Sweet records&mdash;promises as sweet&mdash;<br />
+A creature not too bright or good<br />
+For human nature&#8217;s daily food;<br />
+For transient sorrows, simple wiles,<br />
+Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears and smiles.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Wordsworth.</cite></p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;I know not, I ask not,<br />
+<span class="i2">If guilt&#8217;s in thy heart&mdash;</span><br />
+I but know that I love thee,<br />
+<span class="i2">Whatever thou art.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Moore.</cite></span></p>
+
+<p class="titlepage" style="margin-top: 2em;">Philadelphia:<br />
+T. B. PETERSON, NO. 102 CHESTNUT STREET.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="titlepage" style="margin-top: 2em;">Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1853, by<br />
+
+DEACON &amp; PETERSON,<br />
+
+In the Clerk&#8217;s Office of the District Court of the United States, in and
+for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.</p>
+
+<p class="titlepage">Printed by T. K &amp; P. G Collins.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="titlepage" style="font-size: 200%; margin-top: 4em;">MISS THUSA&#8217;S SPINNING-WHEEL.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 5em; border: solid black 1px;" />
+
+<h2 class="sectionhead"><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;First Fear his hand its skill to try,<br />
+<span class="i1">Amid the chords bewildered laid&mdash;</span><br />
+And back recoiled, he knew not why,<br />
+<span class="i1">E&#8217;en at the sound himself had made.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Collins.</cite></span></p>
+
+<p class="firstpar"><span class="smcap">Little Helen</span> sat in her long flannel night-dress, by the side of Miss
+Thusa, watching the rapid turning of her wheel, and the formation of the
+flaxen thread, as it glided out, a more and more attenuated filament,
+betwixt the dexterous fingers of the spinner.</p>
+
+<p>It was a blustering, windy night, and the window-panes rattled every now
+and then, as if the glass were about to shiver in twain, while the stars
+sparkled and winked coldly without, and the fire glowed warmly, and
+crackled within.</p>
+
+<p>Helen was seated on a low stool, so near the wheel, that several times
+her short, curly hair mingled with the flax of the distaff, and came
+within a hair&#8217;s breadth of being twisted into thread.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Get a little farther off, child, or I&#8217;ll spin you into a spider&#8217;s web,
+as sure as you&#8217;re alive,&#8221; said Miss Thusa, dipping her fingers into the
+gourd, which hung at the side of the distaff, while at the same time she
+stooped down and moistened the fibres, by slipping them through her
+mouth, as it glided over the dwindling flax.</p>
+
+<p>Helen, wrapped in yellow flannel from head to feet, with her little
+white face peeping above, looked not unlike a pearl in golden setting. A
+muslin night-cap perched on the top of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> her head, below which her hair
+frisked about in defiance of comb or ribbon. The cheek next to the fire
+was of a burning red, the other perfectly colorless. Her eyes, which
+always looked larger and darker by night than by day, were fixed on Miss
+Thusa&#8217;s face with a mixture of reverence and admiration, which its
+external lineaments did not seem to justify. The outline of that face
+was grim, and the hair, profusely sprinkled with the ashes of age, was
+combed back from the brow, in the fashion of the Shakers, adding much to
+the rigid expression of the features. A pair of dark-rimmed spectacles
+bestrided her forehead midway, appearing more for ornament than use.
+Never did Nature provide a more convenient resting-place for
+twin-glasses, than the ridge of Miss Thusa&#8217;s nose, which rose with a
+sudden, majestic elevation, suggesting the idea of unexpectedness in the
+mind of the beholder. Every thing was harsh about her face, except the
+eyes, which had a soft, solemn, misty look, a look of prophecy, mingled
+with kindness and compassion, as if she pitied the evils her
+far-reaching vision beheld, but which she had not the power to avert.
+Those soft, solemn, prophetic eyes had the power of fascination on the
+imagination of the young Helen, and night after night she would creep to
+her side, after her mother had prepared her for bed, heard her little
+Protestant <em lang="la" xml:lang="la">pater noster</em>, and left her, as she supposed, just ready to
+sink into the deep slumbers of childhood. She did not know the strange
+influence which was acting so powerfully on the mind of her child, <em>or</em>
+rather she did not seem to be aware that her child was old enough to
+receive impressions, deep and lasting as life itself.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Thusa was a relic of antiquity, bequeathed by destiny to the
+neighborhood in which she dwelt,&mdash;a lone woman, without a single known
+relative or connection. Though the title of Aunt is generally given to
+single ladies, who have passed the meridian of their days, irrespective
+of the claims of consanguinity, no one dared to call her Aunt Thusa, so
+great was her antipathy to the name. She had an equal abhorrence to
+being addressed as <em>Mrs.</em>, an honor frequently bestowed on venerable
+spinsters. She said it did not belong to her, and she disdained to shine
+in borrowed colors. So she retained her virgin distinction, which she
+declared no earthly consideration would induce her to resign.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>She had formerly lived with a bachelor brother, a sickly misanthropist,
+who had long shunned the world, and, as a natural consequence, was
+neglected by it. But when it was known that the invalid was growing
+weaker and weaker, and entirely dependent on the cares of his lonely
+sister, the sympathies of strangers were awakened, and forcing their way
+into the chamber of the sick man, they administered to his sufferings
+and wants, till Miss Thusa learned to estimate, at its true value, the
+kindness she at first repelled. After the death of the brother, the
+families which composed the neighborhood where they dwelt, feeling
+compassion for her loneliness and sorrow, invited her to divide her time
+among them, and make their homes her own. One of her eccentricities (and
+she had more than one,) was a passion for spinning on a little wheel.
+Its monotonous hum had long been the music of her lonely life; the
+distaff, with its swaddling bands of flax, the petted child of her
+affections, and the thread which she manufactured the means of her daily
+support. Wherever she went, her wheel preceded her, as an <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">avant
+courier</em>, after the fashion of the shields of ancient warriors.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah! Miss Thusa&#8217;s coming&mdash;I know it by her wheel!&#8221; was the customary
+exclamation, sometimes uttered in a tone of vexation, but more
+frequently of satisfaction. She was so original and eccentric, had such
+an inexhaustible store of ghost stories and fairy tales, sang so many
+crazy old ballads, that children gathered round her, as a Sibylline
+oracle, and mothers, who were not troubled with a superfluity of
+servants, were glad to welcome one to their household who had such a
+wondrous talent for amusing them, and keeping them still. In spite of
+all her oddities, she was respected for her industry and simplicity, and
+a certain quaint, old-fashioned, superstitious piety, that made a streak
+of light through her character.</p>
+
+<p>Grateful for the kindness and hospitality so liberally extended towards
+her, she never left a household without a gift of the most beautiful,
+even, fine, flaxen thread for the family use. Indeed the fame of her
+spinning spread far and wide, and people from adjoining towns often sent
+orders for quantities of Miss Thusa&#8217;s marvelous thread.</p>
+
+<p>She was now the guest of Mrs. Gleason, the mother of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> Helen, who always
+appropriated to her use a nice little room in a snug corner of the
+house, where she could turn her wheel from morning till night, and bend
+over her beloved distaff. Helen, who was too young to be sent to school
+by day, or to remain in the family sitting-room at night, as her mother
+followed the good, healthy rule of <em>early to bed</em> and <em>early to rise</em>,
+seemed thrown by fate upon Miss Thusa&#8217;s miraculous resources for
+entertainment and instruction. Thus her imagination became
+preternaturally developed, while the germs of reason and judgment lay
+latent and unquickened.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Please stop spinning Miss Thusa, and tell me a story,&#8221; said the child,
+venturing to put her little foot on the treadle, and giving the crank a
+sudden jerk.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes! Don&#8217;t tease&mdash;I must smooth the flax on the distaff and wet the
+thread on the spindle first. There&mdash;that will do. Come, yellow bird,
+jump into my lap, and say what you want me to tell you. Shall it he the
+gray kitten, with the big bunch of keys on its neck, that turned into a
+beautiful princess, or the great ogre, who killed all the little
+children he could find for breakfast and supper?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; replied Helen, shuddering with a strange mixture of horror and
+delight. &#8220;I want to hear something you never told before.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well&mdash;I will tell you the story of the <em>worm-eaten traveler</em>. It is
+half singing, half talking, and a powerful story it is. I would act it
+out, too, if you would sit down in the corner till I&#8217;ve done. Let go of
+me, if you want to hear it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Please Miss Thusa,&#8221; said the excited child, drawing her stool into the
+corner, and crouching herself upon it, while Miss Thusa rose up, and
+putting back her wheel, prepared to commence her heterogeneous
+performance. She often &#8220;<em>acted out</em>&#8221; her stories and songs, to the great
+admiration of children and the amusement of older people, but it was
+very seldom this favor was granted, without earnest and reiterated
+entreaties. It was the first time she had ever spontaneously offered to
+personate the Sibyl, whose oracles she uttered, and it was a proof that
+an unusual fit of inspiration was upon her.</p>
+
+<p>She was very tall and spare. When in the attitude of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> spinning, she
+stooped over her distaff, she lost much of her original height, but the
+moment she pushed aside her wheel, her figure resumed its naturally
+erect and commanding position. She usually wore a dress of dark gray
+stuff, with immense pockets, a black silk neckerchief folded over her
+shoulders, a white tamboured muslin cap, with a black ribbon passed two
+or three times round the crown. To preserve the purity of the muslin,
+and the lustre of the ribbon, she always wore a piece of white paper,
+folded up between her head and the muslin, making the top of the cap
+appear much more opaque than the rest.</p>
+
+<p>The <em>worm-eaten traveler</em>! What an appalling, yet fascinating
+communication! Helen waited in breathless impatience, watching the
+movements of the Sibyl, with darkened pupils and heaving bosom.</p>
+
+<p>At length when a sudden gust of wind blew a naked bough, with a sound
+like the rattling of dry bones against the windows, and a falling brand
+scattered a shower of red sparks over the hearth-stone, Miss Thusa,
+waving the bony fingers of her right hand, thus began&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Once there was a woman spinning by the kitchen fire, spinning away for
+dear life, all living alone, without even a green-eyed cat to keep her
+from being lonely. The coals were all burnt to cinders, and the shadows
+were all rolled up in black bundles in the four corners of the room. The
+woman went on spinning, singing as she spun&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8216;Oh! if I&#8217;d good company&mdash;if I&#8217;d good company,<br />
+Oh! how happy should I be!&#8217;</p>
+
+<p class="noindent">There was a rustling noise in the chimney as if a great chimney-swallow
+was tumbling down, and the woman stooped and looked up into the black
+flue.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Here Miss Thusa bowed her tall form, and turned her beaked nose up
+towards the glowing chimney. Helen, palpitating with excitement followed
+her motions, expecting to see some horrible monster descend all grim
+with soot.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Down came a pair of broad, dusty, skeleton feet,&#8221; continued Miss Thusa,
+recoiling a few paces from the hearth, and lowering her voice till it
+sounded husky and unnatural, &#8220;right down the chimney, right in front of
+the woman, who cried out, while she turned her wheel round and round
+with her bobbin, &#8216;What makes your feet so big, my friend?&#8217; &#8216;Traveling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>
+long journeys. Traveling long journeys,&#8217; replied the skeleton feet, and
+again the woman sang&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8216;Oh! if I&#8217;d good company&mdash;if I&#8217;d good company,<br />
+Oh! how happy should I be!&#8217;</p>
+
+<p class="noindent">Rattle&mdash;rattle went something in the chimney, and down came a pair of
+little mouldering ankles. &#8216;What makes your ankles so small?&#8217; asked the
+woman. &#8216;Worm-eaten, worm-eaten,&#8217; answered the mouldering ankles, and the
+wheel went merrily round.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It is unnecessary to repeat the couplet which Miss Thusa sang between
+every descending <em>horror</em>, in a voice which sounded as if it came
+through a fine-toothed comb, in little trembling wires, though it gave
+indescribable effect to her gloomy tale.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In a few moments,&#8221; continued Miss Thusa, &#8220;she heard a shoving, pushing
+sound in the chimney like something groaning and laboring against the
+sides of the bricks, and presently a great, big, bloated body came down
+and set itself on legs that were no larger than a pipe stem. Then a
+little, scraggy neck, and, last of all, a monstrous skeleton head that
+grinned from ear to ear. &#8216;You want good company, and you shall have it,&#8217;
+said the figure, and its voice did sound awfully&mdash;but the woman put up
+her wheel and asked the grim thing to take a chair and make himself at
+home.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;I can&#8217;t stay to-night,&#8217; said he, &#8216;I&#8217;ve got a journey to take by the
+moonlight. Come along and let us be company for each other. There is a
+snug little place where we can rest when we&#8217;re tired.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh! Miss Thusa, she didn&#8217;t go, did she?&#8221; interrupted Helen, whose eyes,
+which had been gradually enlarging, looked like two full midnight moons.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hush, child, if you ask another question, I&#8217;ll stop short. She didn&#8217;t
+do anything else but go, and they must have been a pretty sight walking
+in the moonlight together. The lonely woman and the worm-eaten traveler.
+On they went through the woods and over the plains, and up hill and down
+hill, over bridges made of fallen trees, and streams that had no bridges
+at all; when at last they came to a kind of uneven ground, and as the
+moon went behind a cloud, they went stumbling along as if treading over
+hillocks of corn.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>&#8220;&#8216;Here it is,&#8217; cried the worm-eaten traveler, stopping on the brink of a
+deep, open grave. The moon looked forth from behind a cloud, and showed
+how awful deep it was. She wanted to turn back then, but the skeleton
+arms of the figure seized hold of her, and down they both went without
+ladder or rope, and no mortal ever set eyes on them more.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8216;Oh! if I&#8217;d good company&mdash;if I&#8217;d good company,<br />
+Oh! how happy should I be!&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It is impossible to describe the intensity with which Helen listened to
+this wild, dark legend, crouching closer and closer to the chimney
+corner, while the chillness of superstitious terror quenched the burning
+fire-rose on her cheek.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Was the spinning woman <em>you</em>, Miss Thusa?&#8221; whispered she, afraid of the
+sound of her own voice; &#8220;and did you see <em>it</em> with your own eyes?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hush, foolish child!&#8221; said Miss Thusa, resuming her natural tone; &#8220;ask
+me no questions, or I&#8217;ll tell you no tales. &#8217;Tis time for the yellow
+bird to be in its nest. Hark! I hear your mother calling me, and &#8217;tis
+long past your bed-time. Come.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And Miss Thusa, sweeping her long right arm around the child, bore her
+shrinking and resisting towards the nursery room.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Please, Miss Thusa,&#8221; she pleaded, &#8220;don&#8217;t leave me alone. Don&#8217;t leave me
+in the dark. I&#8217;m not one bit sleepy&mdash;I never shall go to sleep&mdash;I&#8217;m
+afraid of the worm-eaten man.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I thought the child had more sense,&#8221; exclaimed the oracle. &#8220;I didn&#8217;t
+think she was such a little goose as this,&#8221; continued she, depositing
+her between the nice warm blankets. &#8220;Nobody ever troubles good little
+girls&mdash;the holy angels take care of them. There, good night&mdash;shut your
+eyes and go to sleep.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Please don&#8217;t take the light,&#8221; entreated Helen, &#8220;only just leave it till
+I get to sleep; I&#8217;ll blow it out as soon as I&#8217;m asleep.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I guess you will,&#8221; said Miss Thusa, &#8220;when you get a chance.&#8221; Then
+catching up the lamp, she shot out of the room, repeating to herself,
+&#8220;Poor child! She does hate the dark so! That <em>was</em> a powerful story, to
+be sure. I shouldn&#8217;t wonder if she dreamed about it. I never did see a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>
+child that listens to anything as she does. It&#8217;s a pleasure to amuse
+her. Little monkey! She really acts as if &#8217;twas all true. I know that&#8217;s
+my master piece; that is the reason I&#8217;m so choice of it. It isn&#8217;t every
+one that can tell a story as I can&mdash;that&#8217;s certain. It&#8217;s my <em>gift</em>&mdash;I
+mustn&#8217;t be proud of it. God gives some persons one talent, and some
+another. We must all give an account of them at last. I hope &#8217;twill
+never be said I&#8217;ve hid mine in a napkin.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Such was the tenor of Miss Thusa&#8217;s thoughts as she wended her way down
+stairs. Had she imagined half the misery she was entailing on this
+singularly susceptible and imaginative child, instead of exulting in her
+<em>gift</em>, she would have mourned over its influence, in dust and ashes.
+The fears which Helen expressed, and which she believed would prove as
+evanescent as they were unreal, were a grateful incense to her genius,
+which she delighted with unconscious cruelty in awakening. She had an
+insane passion for relating these dreadful legends, whose indulgence
+seemed necessary to her existence, and the happiness of the narrator was
+commensurate with the credulity of the auditor. Without knowing it, she
+was a vampire, feeding on the life-blood of a young and innocent heart,
+and drying up the fountain of its joys.</p>
+
+<p>Helen listened till the last sound of Miss Thusa&#8217;s footsteps died away
+on the ear, then plunging deeper into the bed, drew the blankets over
+head and ears, and lay immovable as a snow-drift, with the chill dew of
+terror oozing from every pore.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not a good girl,&#8221; said the child to herself, &#8220;and God won&#8217;t send the
+angels down to take care of me to-night. I played going to meeting with
+my dolls last Sunday, and Miss Thusa says that was breaking the
+commandments. I&#8217;ll say my prayers over again, and ask God to forgive
+me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Little Helen clasped her trembling hands under the bed-cover, and
+repeated the Lord&#8217;s Prayer as devoutly and reverentially as mortal lips
+could utter it, but this act of devotion did not soothe her into
+slumber, or banish the phantom that flitted round her couch. Finding it
+impossible to breathe under the bed-cover any longer, and fearing to die
+of suffocation, she slowly emerged from her burying-clothes till her
+mouth came in contact with the cool, fresh air. She kept her eyes
+tightly closed, that she might not see the <em>dark<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span>ness</em>. She remembered
+hearing her brother, who prided himself upon being a great
+mathematician, say that if one counted ten, over and over again, till
+they were very tired, they would fall asleep without knowing it. She
+tried this experiment, but her heart kept time with its loud, quick
+beatings; so loud, so quick, she sometimes mistook them for the skeleton
+foot-tramps of the traveler. She was sure she heard a rustling in the
+chimney, a clattering against the walls. She thought she felt a chilly
+breath sweep over her cheek. At length, unable to endure the awful
+oppression of her fears, she resolved to make a desperate attempt, and
+rush down stairs to her mother, telling her she should die if she
+remained where she was. It was horrible to go down alone in the
+darkness, it was more horrible to remain in that haunted room. So,
+gathering up all her courage, she jumped from the bed, and sought the
+door with her nervous, grasping hands. Her little feet turned to ice, as
+their naked soles scampered over the bare floor, but she did not mind
+that; she found the door, opened it, and entered a long, dark passage,
+leading to the stairway. Then she recollected that on the left of that
+passage there was a lumber-room, running out slantingly to the eaves of
+the house, with a low entrance into it, which was left without a door.
+This lumber-room had long been her especial terror. Whenever she passed
+it, even in broad daylight, it had a strange, mysterious appearance to
+her. The twilight shadows always gathered there first and lingered last;
+she never walked by it&mdash;she always ran with all her speed, as if the
+avenger of blood were behind her. Now she would have flown if she could,
+but her long night dress impeded her motions, and clung adhesively round
+her ankles. Once she trod upon it, and thinking some one arrested her,
+she uttered a loud scream and sprang forward through the door, which
+chanced to be open. This door was directly at the head of the stairs,
+and it is not at all surprising that Helen, finding it impossible to
+recover her equilibrium, should pass over the steps in a quicker manner
+than she intended, swift as her footsteps were. Down she went, tumbling
+and bumping, till she came against the lower door with a force that
+burst it open, and in rolled a yellow flannel ball into the centre of
+the illuminated apartment.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My stars!&#8221; exclaimed Mrs. Gleason, starting up from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> the centre table,
+and dropping a bundle of snowy linen on the floor.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What in the name of creation is this?&#8221; cried Mr. Gleason, throwing down
+his book, as the yellow ball rolled violently against his legs.</p>
+
+<p>Louis Gleason, a boy of twelve, who was seated with the fingers of his
+left hand playing hide and seek among his bright elf locks, while his
+right danced over a slate, making algebra signs with marvelous rapidity,
+jumped up three feet in the air, letting his slate fall with a
+tremendous crash, and destroying many a beautiful equation.</p>
+
+<p>Mittie Gleason, a young girl of about nine, who was deep in the
+abstractions of grammar, and sat with her fore-fingers in her ears, and
+her head bent down to her book, so that all disturbing sounds might be
+excluded, threw her chair backward in the fright, and ran head first
+against Miss Thusa, who was the only one whose self-possession did not
+seem shocked by the unceremonious entrance of the little visitor.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s nobody in the world but little Helen,&#8221; said she, gathering up the
+bundle in her arms and carrying it towards the blazing fire. The child,
+who had been only stunned, not injured by the fall, began to recover the
+use of its faculties, and opened its large, wild-looking eyes on the
+family group we have described.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She has been walking in her sleep, poor little thing,&#8221; said her mother,
+pressing her cold hands in both hers.</p>
+
+<p>Helen knew that this was not the case, and she knew too, that it was
+wrong to sanction by her silence an erroneous impression, but she was
+afraid of her father&#8217;s anger if she confessed the truth, afraid that he
+would send her back to the dark room and lonely trundle-bed. She
+expected that Miss Thusa would call her a foolish child, and tell her
+parents all her terrors of the <em>worm-eaten traveler</em>, and she raised her
+timid eyes to her face, wondering at her silence. There was something in
+those prophetic orbs, which she could not read. There seemed to be a
+film over them, baffling her penetration, and she looked down with a
+long, laboring breath.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Thusa began to feel that her legends might make a deeper impression
+than she imagined or intended. She experienced an odd mixture of triumph
+and regret&mdash;triumph in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> her power, and regret for its consequences. She
+had, too, an instinctive sense that the parents of Helen would be
+displeased with her, were they aware of the influence she had exerted,
+and deprive her hereafter of the most admiring auditor that ever hung on
+her oracular lips. She had <em>meant</em> no harm, but she was really sorry she
+had told that &#8220;powerful story&#8221; at such a late hour, and pressed the
+child closer in her arms with a tenderness deepened by self-reproach.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I suspect Miss Thusa has been telling her some of her awful ghost
+stories,&#8221; said Louis, laughing over the wreck of his slate. &#8220;I know what
+sent the yellow caterpillar crawling down stairs.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Crawling!&#8221; repeated his father, &#8220;I think it was leaping, bouncing, more
+like a catamount than a caterpillar.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I would be ashamed to be a coward and afraid of ghosts,&#8221; exclaimed
+Mittie, with a scornful flash of her bright, black eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Miss Thusa didn&#8217;t tell about ghosts,&#8221; said Helen, bursting into a
+passion of tears. This was true, in the <em>letter</em>, but not in the
+<em>spirit</em>&mdash;and, young as she was, she knew and felt it, and the wormwood
+of remorse gave bitterness to her tears. Never had she felt so wretched,
+so humiliated. She had fallen in her own estimation. Her father, brother
+and sister had ridiculed her and <em>called her names</em>&mdash;a terrible thing
+for a child. One had called her a <em>caterpillar</em>, another a <em>catamount</em>,
+and a third a <em>coward</em>. And added to all this was a sudden and
+unutterable horror of the color of yellow, formerly her favorite hue.
+She mentally resolved never to wear that horrible yellow night dress,
+which had drawn upon her so many odious epithets, even though she froze
+to death without it. She would rather wear her old ones, even if they
+had ten thousand patches, than that bright, new, golden tinted garment,
+so late the object of her intense admiration.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I declare,&#8221; cried Louis, unconscious of the Spartan resolution his
+little sister was forming, and good naturedly seeking to turn her tears
+into smiles, &#8220;I do declare, I thought Helen was a pumpkin, bursting into
+the room with such a noise, wrapped up in this yellow concern. Mother,
+what in the name of all that&#8217;s tasteful, makes you clothe her by night
+in Chinese mourning?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It was her own choice,&#8221; replied Mrs. Gleason, taking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> the weeping child
+in her own lap. &#8220;She saw a little girl dressed in this style, and
+thought she would be perfectly happy to be the possessor of such a
+garment.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I never will put it on again as long as I live,&#8221; sobbed Helen. &#8220;Every
+body laughs at it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps somebody else will have a word to say about it,&#8221; said her
+mother, in a grave, gentle voice. &#8220;When I have taken so much pains to
+make it, and bind it with soft, bright ribbon, to please my little girl,
+it seems to me that it is very ungrateful in her to make such a remark
+as that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, mother, don&#8217;t,&#8221; was all Helen could utter; and she made as strong a
+counter resolve that she would wear the most hideous garment, and brave
+the ridicule of the whole world, rather than expose herself to the
+displeasure of a mother so kind and so indulgent.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You had better put her back in bed,&#8221; said Mr. Gleason; &#8220;children
+acquire such bad habits by indulgence.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Helen trembled and clung close to her mother&#8217;s bosom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I fear she may again rise in her sleep and fall down stairs,&#8221; said the
+more anxious mother.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Turn the key on the outside, till we retire ourselves,&#8221; observed the
+father.</p>
+
+<p>To be locked up alone in the darkness! Helen felt as if she had heard
+her death-warrant, and pale even to <em>blueness</em>, she leaned against her
+mother, incapable of articulating the prayer that trembled on her ashy
+lips.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Give her to me,&#8221; said Miss Thusa, &#8220;I will take her up stairs and stay
+with her till you come.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, no, there is no fire in the room, and you will be cold. Mr.
+Gleason, the child is sick and faint. She has scarcely any pulse&mdash;and
+look, what a blue shade round her mouth. Helen, my darling, do tell me
+what <em>is</em> the matter with you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Her eyes do look very wild,&#8221; said her father, catching the infection of
+his wife&#8217;s fears; &#8220;and her temples are hot and throbbing. I hope she is
+not threatened with an inflammation of the brain.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh! Mr. Gleason, pray don&#8217;t suggest such a thought; I cannot bear it,&#8221;
+cried Mrs. Gleason, with quivering accents. They had lost one lovely
+child, the very counterpart of Helen, by that fearful disease, and she
+felt as if the gleaming sword<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> of the destroying angel were again waving
+over her household.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You had better send for the doctor,&#8221; she continued; &#8220;just so suddenly
+was our lost darling attacked.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Gleason started up and seized his hat, but Louis sprang to the door
+first.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let me go, father&mdash;I can run the fastest.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And those who met the excited boy running through the street, supposed
+it was a life-errand on which he was dispatched.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor came&mdash;not the old family physician, whose age and experience
+entitled him to the most implicit confidence&mdash;but a youthful partner, to
+whom childhood was a mysterious and somewhat unapproachable thing.</p>
+
+<p>Of what fine, almost imperceptible links is the chain of deception
+formed! Helen had no intention of acting the part of a dissembler when
+she formed the desperate resolution of leaving her lonely chamber. She
+expected to meet reproaches, perhaps punishment, but anything was
+preferable to the horrors of her own imagination. But when she found
+herself greeted as a sleep-walker, she had not the moral courage to
+close, by an avowal of the truth, the door of escape a mother&#8217;s gentle
+hand had unconsciously opened. She did nut mean to dissemble sickness,
+but when her mother pleaded sickness as a reason for not sending her
+back to the lone, dark chamber, she yielded to the plea, and really
+began to think herself very ill. Her head did throb and ache, and her
+eyes burned, as if hot sand were sprinkled over the balls. She was not
+afraid of the doctor&#8217;s medicine, for the last time he had prescribed for
+her, he had given her peppermint, dropped on white sugar, which had a
+very pleasing and palatable taste. She loved the old doctor, with his
+frosty hair and sunny smile, and lay quietly in her mother&#8217;s arms, quite
+resigned to her fate, surprising as it was. But when she beheld a
+strange and youthful face bending over her, with a pair of penetrating,
+dark eyes, that looked as if they could read the deepest secrets of the
+heart, she shrank back in dismay, assured the mystery of her illness
+would all be revealed. The next glance reassured her. She was sure he
+would be kind, and not give her anything nauseous or dreadful. She
+watched his cheek, as he leaned over her, to feel her pulse,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> wondering
+what made such a beautiful color steal over it growing brighter and
+brighter, till it looked as if the fire had been glowing upon it. She
+did not know how very young he was, and this was the first time he had
+ever been called to visit a patient alone, and that she, little child as
+she was, was a very formidable object to him&mdash;considered as a being for
+whose life he might be in a measure responsible.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I would give her a composing mixture,&#8221; said he, gently releasing the
+slender wrist of his patient&mdash;&#8220;her brain seems greatly excited, but I do
+not apprehend anything like an inflammation need be dreaded. She is very
+nervous, and must be kept quiet.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Helen felt such inexpressible relief, that forgetting her character of
+an invalid, she lifted her head, and gave him such a radiant look of
+gratitude it quite startled him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;See!&#8221; exclaimed Louis, rubbing his hands, &#8220;how bright she looks. The
+doctor&#8217;s coming has made her well.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t make such a fuss, brother, I can&#8217;t study,&#8221; cried Mittie, tossing
+her hair impatiently from her brow. &#8220;I don&#8217;t believe she&#8217;s any more sick
+than I am, she just does it to be petted.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mittie!&#8221; said her mother, glancing towards the young doctor.</p>
+
+<p>Mittie, with a sudden motion of the head peculiar to herself, brought
+the hair again over her face, till it touched the leaves of the book, in
+whose contents she seemed absorbed; but she peeped at the young doctor
+through her thick, falling locks, and thought if she were sick, she
+would much rather send for him than old Doctor Sennar.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning Helen was really ill and feverish. The excitement of
+the previous evening had caused a tension of the brain, which justified
+the mother&#8217;s fears. At night she became delirious, and raved
+incoherently about <em>the worm-eaten traveler</em>, the spinning-woman, and
+the grave-house to which they were bound.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Gleason sat on one side of her, holding her restless hand in hers,
+while Miss Thusa applied wet napkins to her burning temples. The mother
+shuddered as she listened to the child&#8217;s wild words, and something of
+the truth flashed upon her mind.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I fear,&#8221; said she, raising her eyes, and fixing them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> mildly but
+reproachfully on Miss Thusa&#8217;s face&mdash;&#8220;you have been exciting my little
+girl&#8217;s imagination in a dangerous manner, by relating tales of dreadful
+import. I know you have done it in kindness,&#8221; added she, fearful of
+giving pain, &#8220;but Helen is different from other children, and cannot
+bear the least excitement.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;s always asking me to tell her stories,&#8221; answered Miss Thusa, &#8220;and
+I love the dear child too well to deny her. There is something very
+uncommon about her. I never saw a child that would set and listen to old
+people as she will. I never did think she would live to grow up; she
+wasn&#8217;t well last night, or she wouldn&#8217;t have been scared; I noticed that
+one cheek was red as a cherry, and the other as white as snow&mdash;a sign
+the fever was in her blood.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Thusa, like many other metaphysicians, mistook the effect for the
+cause, and thus stilled, with unconscious sophistry, the upbraidings of
+her conscience.</p>
+
+<p>Helen here tossed upon her feverish couch, and opening her eyes, looked
+wildly towards the chimney.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hark! Miss Thusa,&#8221; she exclaimed, &#8220;it&#8217;s coming. Don&#8217;t you hear it
+clattering down the chimney? Don&#8217;t leave me&mdash;don&#8217;t leave me in the
+dark&mdash;I&#8217;m afraid&mdash;I&#8217;m afraid.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was well for Miss Thusa that Mr. Gleason was not present, to hear the
+ravings of his child, or his doors would hereafter have been barred
+against her. Mrs. Gleason, while she mourned over the consequences of
+her admission, would as soon have cut off her own right hand as she
+would have spoken harshly or unkindly to the poor, lone woman. She
+warned her, however, from feeding, in this insane manner, the morbid
+imagination of her child, and gently forbid her ever repeating <em>that
+awful story</em>, which had made, apparently, so dark and deep an
+impression.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Above all things, my dear Miss Thusa,&#8221; said she, repressing a little
+dry, hacking cough, that often interrupted her speech&mdash;&#8220;never give her
+any horrible idea of death. I know that such impressions can never be
+effaced&mdash;I know it by my own experience. The grave has ever been to me a
+gloomy subject of contemplation, though I gaze upon it with the lamp of
+faith in my hand, and the remembrance that the Son of God made His bed
+in its darkness, that light might be left there for me and mine.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>Miss Thusa looked at Mrs. Gleason as she uttered these sentiments, and
+the glance of her solemn eye grew earnest as she gazed. Such was the
+usual quietness and reserve of the speaker, she was not prepared for so
+much depth of thought and feeling. As she gazed, too, she remarked an
+appearance of emaciation and suffering about her face, which had
+hitherto escaped her observation. She recollected her as she first saw
+her, a beautiful and blooming woman, and now there was bloom without
+beauty, and brightness without beauty, for the color on the cheek and
+the gleam of the eye, made one wish for pallor and dimness, as less
+painful and less prophetic.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Miss Thusa,&#8221; resumed Mrs. Gleason, after a long pause, &#8220;if my
+child lives, I wish her guarded most carefully from all gloomy
+influences. I know that I must soon leave her, for I have an hereditary
+malady, whose symptoms have lately been much aggravated. I have long
+since resigned myself to my doom, knowing that my Heavenly Father knows
+when it is best to call me home. But I cannot bear that my children
+should shrink from all I shall leave behind, my memory. Louis is a bold
+and noble boy. I fear not for him. His reason even now has the strength
+of manhood. Mittie has very little sensibility or imagination; too
+little of the first I fear to be very lovable. But perhaps it will be
+better for her in the end. Helen is all sensibility and imagination. I
+tremble for her. I am haunted by a strange apprehension that my memory
+will be a ghost that she will seek to shun. Oh! Miss Thusa, you cannot
+think how painful this idea is to me. I want her to love me when I am
+gone, to think of me as a guardian angel watching over and blessing her.
+I want her to think of me as living in Heaven, not mouldering away in
+the cold ground. Promise me that you will never more give her any
+terrible idea associated with death and the grave.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Gleason paused, and pressing her handkerchief over her eyes, leaned
+back in her chair with a deep sigh. Was this the quiet, practical
+housekeeper, who always went with stilly steps so noiselessly about her
+daily tasks that no one would think she was doing anything if it were
+not for the results?</p>
+
+<p>Was <em>she</em> talking of dying, who had never yet omitted one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> household
+duty or one neighborly office? Yes! in the stillness of the night,
+interrupted only by the delirious moanings of the sick child, she laid
+aside the mantle of reserve that usually enveloped her, and suffered her
+soul to be visible&mdash;for a little while.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I will try to remember all you&#8217;ve said, and abide by it,&#8221; said Miss
+Thusa, who, in her dark gray dress, and black silk handkerchief tied
+under her chin, looked something like a cowled friar, of &#8220;orders gray,&#8221;
+&#8220;but when one has a <em>gift</em> it&#8217;s hard to keep it back. I don&#8217;t always
+know myself what I&#8217;m going to tell, but speak as I&#8217;m moved, as the Bible
+men used to do in old times. Every body has a way and a taste of their
+own, I know, and some take to one thing, and some to another. Now, I
+always did take to what some folks thinks dreadful things. Perhaps it&#8217;s
+because I&#8217;ve been a lone woman, and led a sort of spiritual life. I
+never took any pleasure in merry-making and frolicking. I&#8217;d rather go to
+a funeral than a wedding, any day, and I&#8217;d rather look at a shrouded
+corpse, than a bride tricked out in her laces and flowers. I know it&#8217;s
+strange, but it&#8217;s true&mdash;and there&#8217;s no use in going against the natural
+grain. You can&#8217;t do it. If I take up a newspaper, I see the deaths and
+murders before anything else. They stare one right in the face, and I
+don&#8217;t see anything else.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What a very peculiar temperament,&#8221; said Mrs. Gleason, thoughtfully.
+&#8220;Were you conscious of the same tastes when a child?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can hardly remember being a child. It seems to me I never was one. I
+always had such old feelings. My father and mother died when I was a
+baby. There was nobody left but my brother&mdash;and&mdash;me. He was the
+strangest being that ever lived. He locked up his heart and kept the
+key, so nobody could get a peep inside. I had nobody to love, nobody who
+loved me, so I got to loving my spinning-wheel and my own thoughts. When
+brother fell sick and grew nervous and peevish, he didn&#8217;t like the hum
+of the wheel, and I had to spin at night in the chimney corner, by the
+flash of the embers, and the company I was to myself the Lord only
+knows. I&#8217;ll tell you what, Mrs. Gleason,&#8221; added she, taking her
+spectacles from her forehead, wiping them carefully, and then putting
+them right on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> top of her head, &#8220;God didn&#8217;t mean every body to be
+alike. Some look up and some look down, but if they&#8217;ve got the right
+spirit, they&#8217;re all looking after God and truth. If I talk of the grave
+more than common, it&#8217;s because I know it&#8217;s nothing but an underground
+passage to eternity.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I thank God for teaching me to look upward at last,&#8221; cried Mrs.
+Gleason, and the quick, panting breath of little Helen was heard
+distinctly in the silence that followed. Her soul reached forward
+anxiously into futurity. If it were possible to change Miss Thusa&#8217;s
+opinions and peculiarities into something after the similitude of her
+kind! Change Miss Thusa! As soon might you expect to change the gnarled
+and rooted oak into the flexible and breeze-bowed willow. Her
+idiosyncrasy had been so nursed and strengthened by the two great
+influences, time and solitude, it spread like the banyan tree, making a
+dark pavilion, where legions of weird spirits gathered and revelled.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Thusa is one instance out of many, of a being with strong mind and
+warm heart, cheated of objects on which to expend the vigor of the one,
+or the fervor of the other. The energies of her character, finding no
+legitimate outlet, beat back upon herself, wearing away by continued
+friction the fine perception of beauty and susceptibility of true
+enjoyment. The vine that finds no support for its <em>upward</em> growth,
+grovels on the earth and covers it with rank, unshapely leaves. The
+mountain stream, turned back from its course, becomes a dark and
+stagnant pool. Even if the rank and long-neglected vine is made to twine
+round some sustaining fabric, it carries with it the dampness and the
+soil of the earth to which it has been clinging. Its tendrils are heavy,
+and have a downward tendency.</p>
+
+<p>In a few days the fever-tide subsided in the veins of Helen.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I will not take it,&#8221; said she, when the young doctor gave her some
+bitter draught to swallow; &#8220;it tastes too bad.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You <em>will</em> take it,&#8221; he replied, calmly, holding the glass in his hand,
+and fixing on her the serene darkness of his eyes. He did not press it
+to her lips, or use any coercion. He merely looked steadfastly, yet
+gently into her face, while the deep color she had noticed the first
+night she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> saw him came slowly into his cheeks. He did not say &#8220;you
+<em>must</em>,&#8221; but &#8220;you <em>will</em>,&#8221; and she felt the difference. She felt the
+singular union of gentleness and power exhibited in his countenance, and
+was constrained to yield. Without making farther resistance, she put
+forth her hand, took the glass, and swallowed the potion at one draught.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It will do you good,&#8221; said he, with a grave smile, but he did not
+praise her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why didn&#8217;t you tell me so before?&#8221; she asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You must learn to confide in your friends,&#8221; he replied, passing his
+hand gently over the child&#8217;s wan brow. &#8220;You must trust them, without
+asking them for reasons for what they do.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Helen thought she would try to remember this, and it seemed easy to
+remember what the young doctor said, for the voice of Arthur Hazleton
+was very sweet and clear, and seemed to vibrate on the ear like a
+musical instrument.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">&mdash;&mdash;&#8220;with burnished neck of verdant gold, erect<br />
+Amid his circling spires, that on the grass<br />
+Floated redundant,&mdash;she busied heard the sound<br />
+Of rustling leaves, but minded not, <em>at first</em>.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Milton.</cite></p>
+
+
+<p class="firstpar"><span class="smcap">Helen</span> recovered, and the agitation caused by her sickness having
+subsided, everything went on apparently as it did before. While she was
+sick, Mrs. Gleason resolved that she would keep her as much as possible
+from Miss Thusa&#8217;s influence, and endeavor to counteract it by a closer,
+more confiding union with herself. But every one knows how quickly the
+resolutions, formed in the hour of danger, are forgotten in the moment
+of safety&mdash;and how difficult it is to break through daily habits of
+life. Even when the pulse beats high with health, and the heart glows
+with conscious energy, it is difficult. How much more so, when the whole
+head is sick, and the whole spirit is faint&mdash;when the lightest duty
+becomes a burden, and <em>rest</em>, nothing but <em>rest</em>, is the prayer of the
+weary soul!</p>
+
+<p>The only perceptible change in the family arrangements was, that Miss
+Thusa carried her wheel at night into the nursery, and installed herself
+there as the guardian of Helen&#8217;s slumbers. The little somnambulist, as
+she was supposed to be, required a watch, and when Miss Thusa offered to
+sit by the fire-side till the family retired to rest, Mrs. Gleason could
+not be so ungrateful as to refuse, though she ventured to reiterate the
+warning, breathed by the feverish couch of her child. This warning Miss
+Thusa endeavored to bear in mind, and illumined the gloomy grandeur of
+her legends by some lambent rays of fancy&mdash;but they were lightning
+flashes playing about ruins, suggesting ideas of desolation and decay.</p>
+
+<p>Let it not be supposed that Helen&#8217;s life was all shadow. Oh, no! In
+proportion as she shuddered at darkness, and trembled before the
+spectres her own imagination created, she rejoiced in sunshine, and
+revelled in the bright glories<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> of creation. She was all darkness or all
+light. There was no twilight about her. Never had a child a more
+exquisite perception of the beautiful, and as at night she delineated to
+herself the most awful and appalling images that imagination can
+conceive, by day she beheld forms more lovely than ever visited the
+poet&#8217;s dream. She could see angels cradled on the glowing bosom of the
+sunset clouds, angels braiding the rainbow of the sky. Light to her was
+peopled with angels, as darkness with phantoms. The brilliant-winged
+butterflies were the angels of the flowers&mdash;the gales that fanned her
+cheeks the invisible angels of the trees. If Helen had lived in a world
+all of sunshine, she would have been the happiest being in the world.
+Moonlight, too, she loved&mdash;it seemed like a dream of the sun. But it was
+only in the presence of others she loved it. She feared to be alone in
+it&mdash;it was so still and holy, and then it made such deep shadows where
+it did not shine! Yes! Helen would have been happy in a world of
+sunshine&mdash;but we are born for the shadow as well as the sunbeam, and
+they who cannot walk unfearing through the gloom, as well as the
+brightness, are ill-fitted for the pilgrimage of life.</p>
+
+<p>Childhood is naturally prone to superstition and fear. The intensity of
+suffering it endures from these sources is beyond description.</p>
+
+<p>We remember, when a child, with what chillness of awe we used to listen
+to the wind sighing through the long branches of the elm trees, as they
+trailed against the window panes, for nursery legends had associated the
+sound with the moaning of ghosts, and the flapping of invisible wings.
+We remember having strange, indescribable dreams, when the mystery of
+our young existence seemed to press down upon us with the weight of
+iron, and fill us with nameless horror. When a something seemed swelling
+and expanding and rolling in our souls, like an immense, fiery globe
+<em>within us</em>, and yet we were carried around with it, and we felt it must
+forever be rolling and enlarging, and we must forever be rolling along
+with it. We remember having this dream night after night, and when we
+awakened, the first thought was <em>eternity</em>, and we thought if we went on
+dreaming, we should find out what eternity meant. We were afraid to tell
+the dream, from a vague fear that it was wrong, that it might be
+thought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> we were trying to pierce into the mystery of God, and it was
+wicked in a child thus to do.</p>
+
+<p>Helen used to say, whenever she fell asleep in the day-time under a
+green tree, or on the shady bank of a stream, as she often did, that she
+had the brightest, most beautiful dreams&mdash;and she wished it was the
+<em>fashion</em> for people to sleep by day instead of night.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly, almost imperceptibly Mrs. Gleason&#8217;s strength wasted away. She
+still kept her place at the family board, and continued her labors of
+love, but the short, dry, hacking cough assumed a more hollow, deeper
+sound, and every day the red spot on her cheek grew brighter, as the
+shades of night came on. Mittie heeded not the change in her mother, but
+the affectionate heart of Louis felt many a sad foreboding, as his
+subdued steps and hushed laugh plainly told. He was naturally joyous and
+gay, even to rudeness, always playing some good-natured but teasing
+prank on his little sister, and making the house ring with his
+merriment. Now, whenever that hollow cough rung in his ears, he would
+start as if a knife pierced him, and it would be a long time before his
+laugh would be heard again. He redoubled his filial attentions, and
+scarcely ever entered the house without bringing something which he
+thought would please her taste, or be grateful to her feelings.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mother, see what a nice string of fishes. I am sure you will like
+these.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh! mother, here are the sweetest flowers you ever saw. Do smell of
+them, they are so reviving.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The tender smile, the fond caress which rewarded these love-offerings
+were very precious to the warm-hearted boy, though he often ran out of
+the house to hide the tears they forced into his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Helen knew that her mother was not well, for she now reclined a great
+deal on the sofa, and Doctor Sennar came to see her every day, and
+sometimes the young doctor accompanied him, and when he did, he always
+took a great deal of notice of her, and said something she could not
+help remembering. Perhaps it was the peculiar glance of his eye that
+fixed the impression, as the characters written in indelible ink are
+pale and illegible till exposed to a slow and gentle fire.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>&#8220;You ought to do all you can for your mother,&#8221; said he, while he held
+her in his lap, and Doctor Sennar counted her mother&#8217;s pulse by the
+ticking of his large gold watch.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am too little to do any good,&#8221; answered she, sighing at her own
+insignificance.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You can be very still and gentle.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But that isn&#8217;t doing anything, is it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;When you are older,&#8221; said the young doctor, &#8220;you will find it is harder
+to keep from doing wrong than to do what is right.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Helen did not understand the full force of what he said, but the saying
+remained in her memory.</p>
+
+<p>The next day, and the bloom of early summer was on the plains, and its
+deep, blue glory on the sky, Helen thought again and again what she
+should do for her mother. At length she remembered that some one had
+said that the strawberries were ripe, and that her mother had longed
+exceedingly for a dish of strawberries and cream. This was something
+that even Louis had not done for her, and her heart throbbed with joy
+and exultation in anticipation of the offering she could make.</p>
+
+<p>With a bright tin bucket, that shone like burnished silver in the
+sunbeams, swinging on her arm, she stole out of the back door, and ran
+down a narrow lane, till she came to an open field, where the young corn
+was waving its silken tassels, and potato vines frolicking at its feet.
+The long, shining leaves of the young corn threw off the sunlight like
+polished steel, and Helen thought she had never seen anything so
+beautiful in all her life. She stopped and pulled off the soft, tender,
+green silken tassels, hanging them over her ears, and twisting some in
+her hair, as if she were a mermaid, her &#8220;sea-green ringlets braiding.&#8221;
+Then springing from hillock to hillock, she reached the end of the
+field, and jumped over a fence that skirted a meadow, along which a
+clear, blue stream glided like an azure serpent in glittering coils,
+under the shade of innumerable hickory trees. Helen became so enchanted
+with the beauty of the landscape, that she forgot her mother and the
+strawberries, forgot there were such things as night and darkness in the
+universe. Taking off her shoes and tying them to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> handle of her
+bucket, she went down to the edge of the stream, and dipping her feet in
+the cool water, waded along close to the bank, and the little wavelets
+curled round her ankles as if they loved to play with anything so smooth
+and white. Then she saw bright specks of mica shining on the sand, and
+she sprang out of the water to gather them, wondering if pearls and
+diamonds ever looked half so beautiful.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How I wish strawberries grew under water,&#8221; cried Helen, suddenly
+recollecting her filial mission. &#8220;How I wish they did not grow under the
+long grass!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The light faded from her face, and the dimness of fear came over it. She
+had an unutterable dread of snakes, for they were the <em>heroes</em> of some
+of Miss Thusa&#8217;s awful legends, and she knew they lurked in the long
+grass, and were said to be especially fond of strawberries. Strange, in
+her eager desire to do something for her mother, she had forgotten the
+ambushed foe she most dreaded by day&mdash;now she wondered she had dared to
+think of coming.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I will go back,&#8221; thought she; &#8220;I dare not jump over that fence and wade
+about in grass as high as my head.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You must do all you can for your mother,&#8221; echoed in clear, silver
+accents in her memory; &#8220;Louis will gather them if I do not,&#8221; continued
+she, &#8220;and she will never know how much I love her. All little children
+pick strawberries for themselves, and I never heard of one being bitten
+by a snake. If I pick them for my mother instead of myself, I don&#8217;t
+believe God will let them hurt me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>While thus meditating, she had reached the fence, and stepping on the
+lower rails, she peeped over into the deep, green patch. As the wind
+waved the grass to and fro, she caught glimpses of the reddening
+berries, and her cheeks glowed with excitement. They were so thick, and
+looked so rich and delicious! She would keep very near the fence, and if
+a snake should crawl near her, she could get upon the topmost rails, and
+it could not reach her there. One jump, and the struggle was over. She
+plunged in a sea of verdure, while the strawberries glowed like coral
+beneath. They hung in large, thick clusters, touching each other, so
+that it would be an easy thing to fill her bucket before the sun went
+down. She would not pick the whole clusters, because<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> some were green
+still, and she had heard her mother say, that it was a waste of God&#8217;s
+bounty, and a robbery of those who came afterwards, to pluck and destroy
+unripe fruit. Several times she started, thinking she heard a rustling
+in the leaves, but it was only the wind whispering to them as it passed.
+She stained her cheeks and the palms of her hands with the crimson
+juice, thinking it would make her mother smile, resolving to look at
+herself in the water as she returned.</p>
+
+<p>Her bucket, which was standing quietly on the ground, was almost full;
+she was stooping down, with her sun-bonnet pushed back from her glowing
+face, to secure the largest and best berries which she had yet seen,
+when she <em>did</em> hear a rustling in the grass very near, and looking
+round, there was a large, long snake, winding slowly, carefully towards
+the bucket, with little gleaming eyes, that looked like burning glass
+set in emerald. It seemed to glow with all the colors of the rainbow, so
+radiant it was in yellow, green and gold, striped with the blackest jet.
+For one moment, Helen stood stupefied with terror, fascinated by the
+terrible beauty of the object on which she was gazing. Then giving a
+loud, shrill shriek, she bounded to the fence, climbed over it, and
+jumped to the ground with a momentum so violent that she fell and rolled
+several paces on the earth. Something cold twined round her feet and
+ankles. With a gasp of despair, Helen gave herself up for lost, assured
+she was in the coils of the snake, and that its venom was penetrating
+through her whole frame.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I shall die,&#8221; thought she, &#8220;and mother will never know how I came here
+alone to gather strawberries, that she might eat and be well.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>As she felt no sting, no pain, and the snake lay perfectly still, she
+ventured to steal a glance at her feet, and saw that it was a piece of a
+vine that she had caught in her flight, and which her fears had
+converted into the embrace of an adder. Springing up with the velocity
+of lightning, she darted along, regardless of the beauty of the stream,
+in whose limpid waters she had thought to behold her crimson-stained
+cheeks. She ran on, panting, glowing&mdash;the perspiration, hot as drops of
+molten lead, streaming down her face, looking furtively back, every now
+and then, to see if that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> gorgeous creature, with glittering coils and
+burning eyes were not gliding at her heels. At length, blinded and dizzy
+from the speed with which she had run, she fell against an opposing body
+just at the entrance of the lane.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, Helen, what is the matter?&#8221; exclaimed a well-known voice, and she
+knew she was safe. It was the young doctor, who loved to walk on the
+banks of that beautiful stream, when the shadows of the tall hickories
+lengthened on the grass.</p>
+
+<p>Helen was too breathless to speak, but he knew, by her clinging hold,
+that she sought protection from some real or imaginary danger. While he
+pitied her evident fright, he could not help smiling at her grotesque
+appearance. The perspiration, dripping from her forehead, had made
+channels through the crimson dye on her cheeks, and her chin, which had
+been buried in the ground when she fell, was all covered with mud. Her
+frock was soiled and torn, her bonnet twisted so that the strings hung
+dangling over her shoulder. A more forlorn, wild-looking little figure,
+can scarcely be imagined, and it is not strange that the young doctor
+found it difficult to suppress a laugh.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And so you left your strawberries behind,&#8221; said he, after hearing the
+history of her fright and flight. &#8220;It seems to me I would not have
+treated the snake so daintily. Suppose we go back and cheat him of his
+nice supper, after all.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh! no&mdash;no&mdash;no,&#8221; exclaimed Helen, emphatically. &#8220;I wouldn&#8217;t go for all
+the strawberries in the whole world.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not when they would do your sick mother good?&#8221; said he, gravely.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But the snake!&#8221; cried she, with a shudder.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is perfectly harmless. If you took it in your hand and played with
+it, it would not hurt you. Those beautiful, bright-striped creatures
+have no venom in them. Come, let us step down to the edge of the stream
+and wash the stains from your face and hands, and then you shall show me
+where your strawberries are waiting for us in the long grass.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He took her hand and attempted to draw her along, but she resisted with
+astonishing strength, planting her back against the railing that divided
+the lane from the corn-field.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Helen, you <em>will</em> come with me,&#8221; said he, in the same tone, and with
+the same magnetic glance, with which he had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> once before subdued her.
+She remained still a few moments, then the rigid muscles began to relax,
+and hanging down her head, she sobbed aloud.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You will come,&#8221; repeated he, leading her gently along towards the bank
+of the stream, &#8220;because you know I would not lead you into danger, and
+because if you do not try to conquer such fears, they will make you very
+unhappy through life. Don&#8217;t you wish to be useful and do good to others,
+when you grow older?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, yes,&#8221; replied Helen, with animation&mdash;&#8220;but,&#8221; added she,
+despondingly, &#8220;I never shall.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It depends upon yourself,&#8221; replied her friend; &#8220;some of the greatest
+men that ever lived, were once timid little children. They made
+themselves great by overcoming their fears, by having a strong will.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They were now close to the water, which, just where they stood, was as
+still and smooth as glass. Helen saw herself in the clear, blue mirror,
+and laughed aloud&mdash;then she blushed to think how strange and ugly she
+looked. Eagerly scooping up the water in the hollow of her hand, she
+bathed her face, and removed the disfiguring stains.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You have no napkin,&#8221; said the young doctor, taking a snowy linen
+handkerchief from his pocket, which emitted a sweet, faint, rose-like
+perfume. &#8220;Will this do?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He wiped her face, which looked fairer than ever after the ablution, and
+then first one and then the other of her trembling hands, for they still
+trembled from nervous agitation.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How kind, how good he is!&#8221; thought Helen, as his hand passed gently
+over her brow, smoothing back the moist and tangled hair, then glided
+against her cheek, while he arranged the twisted bonnet and untied the
+dangling strings, which had tightened into a hard and obstinate knot. &#8220;I
+wonder what makes him so kind and good to me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>When they came to the fence, surrounding the strawberry-field, Helen&#8217;s
+steps involuntarily grew slower, and she hung back heavily on the hand
+of her companion. Her old fears came rushing over her, drowning her
+new-born courage.</p>
+
+<p>Arthur laid his hand on the top rail, and vaulted over as lightly as a
+bird, then held out his arms towards her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Climb, and I will catch you,&#8221; said he, with an encouraging smile. Poor
+little Helen felt constrained to obey him,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> though she turned white as
+snow&mdash;and when he took her in his arms, he felt her heart beating and
+fluttering like the wings of a caged humming-bird.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah, I see the silver bucket,&#8221; he cried, &#8220;all filled with strawberries.
+The enemy is fled; the coast is clear.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He still held her in his arms, while he stooped and lifted the bucket,
+then again vaulted over the fence, as if no burden impeded his
+movements.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are safe,&#8221; said he, &#8220;and you can now gladden your mother&#8217;s heart by
+this sweet offering. Are you sorry you came?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh! no,&#8221; she replied, &#8220;I feel happy now.&#8221; She insisted upon his eating
+part of the strawberries, but he refused, and as they walked home, he
+gathered green leaves and flowers, and made a garland round them.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What makes you so good to me?&#8221; she exclaimed, with an irresistible
+impulse, looking gratefully in his face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Because I like you,&#8221; he replied; &#8220;you remind me, too, of a dear little
+sister of mine, whom I love very tenderly. Poor unfortunate Alice! Your
+lot is happier than hers.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What makes <em>me</em> happier?&#8221; asked Helen, thinking that one who had so
+kind a brother ought to be happy.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She is blind,&#8221; he replied, &#8220;she never saw one ray of light.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh! how dreadful!&#8221; cried Helen, &#8220;to live all the time in the dark! Oh!
+I should be afraid to live at all!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I said you were happier, Helen; but I recall my words. She is not
+afraid, though all the time midnight shadows surround her. A sweet smile
+usually rests upon her face, and her step is light and springy as the
+grasshopper&#8217;s leap.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But it must be so dreadful to be blind!&#8221; repeated Helen. &#8220;How I do pity
+her!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is a great misfortune, one of the greatest that can be inflicted
+upon a human being&mdash;but she does not murmur. She confides in the love of
+those around her, and feels as if their eyes were her own. Were I to ask
+her to walk over burning coals, she would put her hand in mine, to lead
+her, so entire is her trust, so undoubting is her faith.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How I wish I could be like her!&#8221; said Helen, in a tone of deep
+humility.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are like her at this moment, for you have gone<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> where you believed
+great danger was lurking, trusting in my promise of protection and
+safety,&mdash;trusting in me, who am almost a stranger to you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Helen&#8217;s heart glowed within her at his approving words, and she rejoiced
+more than ever that she had obeyed his will. Her sympathies were
+painfully awakened for the blind child, and she asked him a thousand
+questions, which he answered with unwearied patience. She repeated over
+and over again the sweet name of Alice, and wished it were hers, instead
+of Helen.</p>
+
+<p>At the great double gate, that opened into the wood-yard, Arthur left
+her, and she hastened on, proud of the victory she had obtained over
+herself. Mittie was standing in the back door; as Helen came up the
+steps, she pointed in derision at her soiled and disordered dress.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I couldn&#8217;t help it,&#8221; said Helen, trying to pass her, &#8220;I fell down.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh! what nice strawberries!&#8221; exclaimed Mittie, &#8220;and so many of them.
+Give me some.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t touch them, Mittie&mdash;they are for mother,&#8221; cried Helen, spreading
+her hand over the top of the bucket, as Mittie seized the handle and
+jerked it towards her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You little, stingy thing, I <em>will</em> have some,&#8221; cried Mittie, plunging
+her hand in the midst of them, while the sweet wild flowers which
+Arthur&#8217;s hand had scattered over them, and the shining leaves with which
+he had bordered them, all fell on the steps. Helen felt as if scalding
+water were pouring into her veins, and in her passion she lifted her
+hand to strike her, when a hollow cough, issuing from her mother&#8217;s room,
+arrested her. She remembered, too, what the young doctor had said, &#8220;that
+it was harder to keep from doing wrong, than to do what was right.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If he saw me strike Mittie, he would think it wrong,&#8221; thought she,
+&#8220;though if he knew how bad she treats me, he&#8217;d say &#8217;twas hard to keep
+from it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Kneeling on one knee, she picked up the scattered flowers, and on every
+flower a dew drop fell, and sparkled on its petals.</p>
+
+<p>They had a witness of whom they were not aware. The tall, gray figure of
+Miss Thusa, appeared in the opposite door, at the moment of Mittie&#8217;s
+rude and greedy act. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> meekness of Helen exasperated her still more
+against the offender, and striding across the passage, she seized Mittie
+by the arm, and swung her completely on one side.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let me alone, old Madam Thusa,&#8221; exclaimed Mittie, &#8220;I&#8217;m not going to
+mind <em>you</em>. That I&#8217;m not. You always take her part against me. Every
+body does&mdash;that makes me hate her.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;For shame! for shame!&#8221; cried the tall monitor, &#8220;to talk so of your
+little sister. You&#8217;re like the girl in the fairy tale, who was so
+spiteful that every time she spoke, toads and vipers crawled out of her
+mouth. Helen, I&#8217;ll tell you that story to-night, before you go to
+sleep.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Helen could have told her that she would rather not hear any thing of
+vipers that night, but she feared Miss Thusa would be displeased and
+think her ungrateful. Notwithstanding Mittie&#8217;s unkindness and violence
+of temper, she did not like to have such dreadful ideas associated with
+her. When, however, she heard the whole story, at the usual witching
+hour, she felt the same fascination which had so often enthralled her.
+As it was summer, the blazing fire no longer illuminated the hearth, but
+a little lamp, whose rays flickered in the wind that faintly murmured in
+the chimney. Miss Thusa sat spinning by the open window, in the light of
+the solemn stars, and as she waxed more and more eloquent, she seemed to
+derive inspiration from their beams. She could see one twinkling all the
+time in the little gourd of water, swinging from her distaff, and in
+spite of her preference for the dark and the dreadful, she could not
+help stopping her wheel, to admire the trembling beauty of that solitary
+star.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Pale as the corse o&#8217;er which she leaned,<br />
+<span class="i1">As cold, with stifling breath,</span><br />
+Her spirit sunk before the might,<br />
+<span class="i1">The majesty of death.&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;A man severe he was, and stern to view,<br />
+I knew him well, and every truant knew&mdash;<br />
+Yet he was kind, or if severe in aught,<br />
+The love he bore for learning was in fault.&#8221;<br />
+<span class="i10"><cite>Goldsmith.</cite></span></p>
+
+
+<p class="firstpar"><span class="smcap">The</span> darkened room, the stilly tread, the muffled knocker and slowly
+closing door, announced the presence of that kingly guest, who presides
+over the empire of <em>terror</em> and the grave. The long-expected hour was
+arrived, and Mrs. Gleason lay supported by pillows, whose soft down
+would never more sink under the pressure of her weary head. The wasting
+fires of consumption had burned and burned, till nothing but the ashes
+of life were left, save a few smouldering embers, from which flashed
+occasionally a transient spark. Mr. Gleason sat at the bed&#8217;s head, with
+that grave, stern, yet bitter grief on his countenance which bids
+defiance to tears. She had been a gentle and devoted wife, and her
+quiet, home-born virtues, not always fully appreciated, rose before his
+remembrance, like the angels in Jacob&#8217;s dream, climbing up to Heaven.
+Louis stood behind him, his head bowed upon his shoulder, sobbing as if
+his heart would break. Helen was nestled in her father&#8217;s arms, with the
+most profound and unutterable expression of grief and awe and dread, on
+her young face. She was told that her mother was dying, going away from
+her, never to return, and the anguish this conviction imparted would
+have found vent in shrieks, had not the awe with which she beheld the
+cold, gray shadows of death, slowly, solemnly rolling over the face she
+loved best on earth, the face which had always seemed to her the
+perfection of mortal beauty, paralyzed her tongue, and frozen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> the
+fountain of her tears. Mittie stood at the foot of the bed, looking at
+her mother through the opening of the curtain, partly veiled by the
+long, white fringe that hung heavily from the folds, and which the wind
+blew to and fro, with something like the sweep of the willow. The
+windows were all open to admit the air to the faintly heaving lungs of
+the sufferer, and gradually one curtain after another was lifted, as the
+struggle for breath and air increased, and the light of departing day
+streamed in on the sunken and altered features it was never more to
+illuminate. Mittie was awe struck, but she manifested no tenderness or
+sensibility. It was astonishing how so young a child could see <em>anyone</em>
+die, and above all a <em>mother</em>&mdash;a mother, so kind and affectionate, with
+so little emotion. She was far more oppressed by the realization of her
+own mortality, for the first time pressed home upon her, than by her
+impending bereavement. What were the feelings of that speechless,
+expiring, but fully conscious mother, as she gazed earnestly, wistfully,
+thrillingly on the group that surrounded her? There was the husband,
+whom she had so much loved, he, who often, when weary with business, and
+perplexed with anxiety, had seemed careless and indifferent, but who, as
+life waned away, had shown the tenderness of love&#8217;s early day, and who
+she knew would mourn her deeply and <em>long</em>. There was her noble,
+handsome, warm-hearted, high-souled boy&mdash;the object of her pride, as
+well as her affection&mdash;he, who had never willfully given her a moment&#8217;s
+pain&mdash;and though his irrepressive sighs and suffocating sobs she would
+have hushed, at the expense of all that remained of life to her&mdash;there
+was still a music in them to her dying ear, that told of love that would
+not forget, that would twine in perennial garlands round her grave. Poor
+little Helen, as she looked at her pale, agonized face, and saw the
+<em>terror</em> imprinted there, she remembered what she had once said to Miss
+Thusa, of being after death an object of <em>terror</em> to her child, and she
+felt a sting that no language could express. She longed to stretch out
+her feeble arms, to fold them round this child of her prayers and fears,
+to carry her with her down the dark valley her feet were treading, to
+save her from trials a nature like hers was so ill-fitted to sustain.
+She looked from her to Mittie, the cold, insensible Mittie, whose large,
+black eyes, serious, but not sad,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> were riveted upon her through the
+white fringe of the curtain, and another sting sharper still went
+through her heart.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh! my child,&#8221; she would have said, could her thoughts have found
+utterance, &#8220;forget me if you will&mdash;mourn not for me, the mother who bore
+you&mdash;but be kind, be loving to your little sister, more young and
+helpless than yourself. You are strong and fearless&mdash;she is a timid,
+trembling, clinging dove. Oh! be gentle to her, for my sake, gentle as I
+have ever been to you. And you, too, my child, the time will come when
+you will <em>feel</em>, when your heart will awake from its sleep&mdash;and if you
+only feel for yourself, you will be wretched.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why art thou cast down, oh! my soul? and why art thou disquieted within
+me?&#8221; were the meditations of the dying woman, when turning from earth,
+she raised her soul on high. &#8220;I leave my children in the hands of a
+heavenly Father, as well as a mighty God&mdash;in the care of Him who died
+that man might live forevermore.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>But there was one present at this scene, who seemed a priestess
+presiding over some mystic rite. It was Miss Thusa. Notwithstanding the
+real kindness of her heart, she felt a strange and intense delight in
+witnessing the last struggle between vitality and death, in gazing on
+the marble, soulless features, from which life had departed, and
+composing the icy limbs for the garniture of the grave. She would have
+averted suffering and death, if she could, from all, but since every son
+and daughter of Adam were doomed to bear them, she wanted the privilege
+of beholding the conflict, and gazing on the ruins. She would sit up
+night after night, regardless of fatigue, to watch by the pillow of
+sickness and pain, and yet she felt an unaccountable sensation of
+disappointment when her cares were crowned with success, and the hour of
+danger was over. She would have climbed mountains, if it were required,
+to carry water to dash on a burning dwelling, yet wished at the same
+time to see the flames grow redder and broader, and more destructive.
+She would have liked to live near the smoke and fire of battle, so that
+she might wander in contemplation among the unburied slain.</p>
+
+<p>The sun went down, but the sun of life still lingered on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> the verge of
+the horizon. The dimness of twilight mingled with the shadows of death.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Take me out,&#8221; cried Helen, struggling to be released from her father&#8217;s
+arms. &#8220;Oh! take me from here. It don&#8217;t seem mother that I see.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hush&mdash;hush,&#8221; said Mr. Gleason, sternly, &#8220;you disturb her last moments.&#8221;
+But Helen, whose feelings were wrought up to a pitch which made
+stillness impossible, and restraint agonizing, darted from between her
+father&#8217;s knees and rushed into the passage. But how dim and lonely it
+was! How melancholy the cat looked, waiting near the door, with its
+calm, green eyes turned towards the chamber where its gentle mistress
+lay! It rubbed its white, silky sides against Helen, purring solemnly
+and musically, but Helen recollected many a frightful tale of cats,
+related by Miss Thusa, and recoiled from the contact. She longed to
+escape from herself, to escape from a world so dark and gloomy. Her
+mother was going, and why should she stay behind? <em>Going!</em> yet lying so
+still and almost breathless there! She had been told that the angels
+came down and carried away the souls of the good, but she looked in vain
+for the track of their silvery wings. One streak of golden ruddiness
+severed the gray of twilight, but it resembled more a fiery bar, closing
+the gates of heaven, than a radiant opening to the spirit-land. While
+she stood pale and trembling, with her hand on the latch of the door,
+afraid to stay where she was, afraid to return and confront the mystery
+of death, the gate opened, and Arthur Hazleton came up the steps. He had
+been there a short time before, and went away for something which it was
+thought might possibly administer relief. He held out his hand, and
+Helen clung to it as if it had the power of salvation. He read what was
+passing in the mind of the child, and pitied her. He did not try to
+reason with her at that moment, for he saw it would be in vain, but
+drawing her kindly towards him, he told her he was sorry for her. His
+words, like &#8220;flaky snow in the day of the sun,&#8221; melted as they fell and
+sunk into her heart, and she began to weep. He knew that her mother
+could not live long, and wishing to withdraw her from a scene which
+might give a shock from which her nerves would long vibrate, he
+committed her to the care of a neighbor, who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> took her to her own home.
+Mrs. Gleason died at midnight, while Helen lay in a deep sleep,
+unconscious of the deeper slumbers that wrapped the dead.</p>
+
+<p>And now a terrible trial awaited her. She had never looked on the face
+of death, and she shrunk from the thought with a dread which no language
+can express. When her father, sad and silent, with knit brow and
+quivering lip, led her to the chamber where her mother lay, she resisted
+his guidance, and declared she would never, never go in <em>there</em>. It
+would have been well to have yielded to her wild pleadings, her tears
+and cries. It would have been well to have waited till reason was
+stronger and more capable of grappling with terror, before forcing her
+to read the first awful lesson of mortality. But Mr. Gleason thought it
+his duty to require of her this act of filial reverence, an act he would
+have deemed it sacrilegious to omit. He was astonished, grieved, angry
+at her resistance, and in his excitement he used some harsh and bitter
+words.</p>
+
+<p>Finding persuasions and threats in vain, he summoned Miss Thusa, telling
+her he gave into her charge an unnatural, rebellious child, with whose
+strange temper he was then too weak to contend. It was a pity he
+summoned such an assistant, for Miss Thusa thought it impious as well as
+unnatural, and she had bound herself too by a sacred promise, that she
+would not suffer Helen to <em>fear</em> in death the mother whom in life she
+had so dearly loved. Helen, when she looked into those still, commanding
+eyes, felt that her doom was sealed, and that she need struggle no more.
+In despair, rather than submission, she yielded, if it can be called
+yielding, to suffer herself to be dragged into a room, which she never
+entered afterwards without dread.</p>
+
+<p>The first glance at the interior of the chamber, struck a chill through
+her heart. It was so still, so chill, so dim, yet so white. The curtains
+of white muslin fell in long, slumberous folds down to the floor, their
+fringes resting lifelessly on the carpet. The tables and chairs were all
+covered with white linen, and something shrouded in white was stretched
+out on a table in the centre of the room. The sheet which covered it
+flapped a moment as the door opened, and then hung motionless. The
+outline of a human form beneath was visible, and when Miss Thusa lifted
+her in her arms and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> carried her to the spot, Helen was conscious of an
+awful curiosity growing up within her that was stronger than her
+terrors. Her breath came quick and short, a film came over her eyes, and
+cold drops of sweat stood upon her forehead, yet she would not now have
+left the room without penetrating into the mystery of death. Miss Thusa
+laid her hand upon the sheet and turned it back from the pale and
+ghastly face, on whose brow the mysterious signet of everlasting rest
+was set. Still, immovable, solemn, placid&mdash;it lay beneath the gaze, with
+shrouded eye, and cheek like concave marble, and hueless, waxen lips.
+What depth, what grandeur, what duration in that repose! What
+inexpressible sadness, yet what sublime tranquillity! Helen held her
+breath, bending slowly, lower and lower, as if drawn down by a mighty,
+irresistible power, till her cheek almost touched the clay-cold cheek
+over which she leaned. Then Miss Thusa folded back the sheet still
+farther, and exposed the shrouded form, which she had so carefully
+prepared for its last dread espousals. The fragrance of white roses and
+geranium leaves profusely scattered over the body, mingled with the cold
+odor of mortality, and filled the room with a deadly, sickening perfume.
+White roses were placed in the still, white, emaciated hands, and lay
+all wilted on the unbreathing bosom.</p>
+
+<p>All at once a revulsion took place in the breast of Helen. It mocked
+her&mdash;that silent, rigid, moveless form. She felt so cold, so deadly cold
+in its presence, it seemed as if all the warmth of life went out within
+her. She began to realize the desolation, the loneliness of the future.
+The cry of orphanage came wailing up from the depths of her heart, and
+bursting from her lips in a loud piercing shriek, she sprang forward and
+fell perfectly insensible on the bosom of the dead.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I wish I had not <em>forced</em> her to go in,&#8221; exclaimed the father, as he
+hung with remorseful anguish over the child. &#8220;Great Heaven! must I lose
+all I hold dear at once?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, no,&#8221; cried Miss Thusa, making use of the most powerful restoratives
+as she spoke, &#8220;it will not hurt her. She is coming to already. It&#8217;s a
+lesson she must learn, and the sooner the better. She&#8217;s got to be
+hardened&mdash;and if we don&#8217;t begin to do it the Lord Almighty will. I
+remember the saying of an old lady, and she was a powerful wise wo<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>man,
+that they who refused to look at a corpse, would see their own every
+night in the glass.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Repeat not such shocking sayings before the child,&#8221; cried Mr. Gleason.
+&#8220;I fear she has heard too many already.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Ah, yes! <em>she had heard too many</em>. The warning came too late.</p>
+
+<p>She was restored to animation and&mdash;to memory. Her father, now trembling
+for her health, and feeling his affection and tenderness increase in
+consequence of a sensibility so remarkable, forbid every one to allude
+to her mother before her, and kept out of her sight as far as possible
+the mournful paraphernalia of the grave. But a <em>cold presence</em> haunted
+her, and long after the mother was laid in the bosom of earth, it would
+come like a sudden cloud over the sun, chilling the warmth of childhood.</p>
+
+<p>She had never yet been sent to school. Her extreme timidity had induced
+her mother to teach her at home the rudiments of education. She had thus
+been a kind of <em>amateur</em> scholar, studying pictures more than any thing
+else, and never confined to any particular hours or lessons. About six
+months after her mother&#8217;s death, her father thought it best she should
+be placed under regular instruction, and she was sent with Mittie to the
+village school. If she could only have gone with Louis&mdash;Louis, so brave,
+yet tender, so manly, yet so gentle, how much happier she would have
+been! But Louis went to the large academy, where he studied Greek and
+Latin and Conic Sections, &amp;c., where none but boys were admitted. The
+teacher of the village school was a gentleman who had an equal number of
+little boys and girls under his charge. In summer the institution was
+under the jurisdiction of a lady&mdash;in autumn and winter the Salic law had
+full sway, and man reigned supreme on the pedagogical throne. It was in
+winter that Helen entered what was to her a new world.</p>
+
+<p>The little, delicate, pensive looking child, clad in deep mourning,
+attracted universal interest. The children gathered round her and
+examined her as they would a wax doll. There was something about her so
+different from themselves, so different from every body else they had
+seen, that they looked upon her as a natural curiosity.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>&#8220;What big eyes she&#8217;s got!&#8221; cried a little creature, whose eyes were
+scarcely larger than pin-holes, putting her round, fat face close to
+Helen&#8217;s pale one, and peering under her long lashes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hush!&#8221; said another, whose nickname was Cherry-cheeks, so bright and
+ruddy was her bloom. &#8220;She&#8217;s a thousand times prettier than you, you
+little no eyed thing! But what makes her so pale and thin? I wonder&mdash;and
+what makes her look so scared?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is because her mother is dead,&#8221; said an orphan child, taking Helen&#8217;s
+hand in one of hers, passing the other softly over her smooth hair.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mittie has lost her mother too,&#8221; replied Cherry-cheeks, &#8220;and she isn&#8217;t
+pale nor thin.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mittie don&#8217;t care,&#8221; exclaimed several voices at once, &#8220;only let her
+have the head of the class, and she won&#8217;t mind what becomes of the rest
+of the world.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A scornful glance over her shoulder was all the notice Mittie deigned to
+take of this acknowledgment of her eagle ambition. Conscious that she
+was the favorite of the teacher, she disdained to cultivate the love and
+good-will of her companions. With a keen, bright intelligence, and
+remarkable retentiveness of memory, she mastered her studies with
+surprising quickness, and distanced all her competitors. Had she been
+amiable, her young classmates would have been proud of the honors she
+acquired, for it is easy to yield the palm to one always in the
+ascendant, but she looked down with contempt on those of inferior
+attainments, and claimed as a right the homage they would have
+spontaneously offered.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Hightower, or as he was called Master High-tower, was worthy of his
+commanding name, for he was at least six feet and three inches in
+height, and of proportional magnitude. It would have looked more in
+keeping to see him at the head of an embattled host rather than
+exercising dominion over the little rudiments of humanity arranged
+around him. His hair was thick and bushy, and he had a habit of combing
+it with his fingers very suddenly, and making it stand up like military
+plumes all over his head. His features, though heavily moulded, had no
+harsh lines. Their predominant expression was good nature, a kind of
+elephantine docility,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> which neutralized the awe inspired by his immense
+size. On his inauguration morning, when the children beheld him marching
+slowly through the rows of benches on which they were seated, with a
+long, black ruler under his arm, and enthrone himself behind a tall,
+green-covered desk, they crouched together and trembled as the frogs did
+when King Log plunged in their midst. Though his good-humored
+countenance dispersed their terror, they found he was far from
+possessing the inaction of the wooden monarch, and that no one could
+resist his authority with impunity. He <em>could</em> scold, and then his voice
+thundered and reverberated in the ears of the pale delinquent in such a
+storm-peal as was never heard before&mdash;and he <em>could</em> chastise the
+obstinate offender, when reason could not control, most tremendously.
+That long, black ruler&mdash;what a wand it was! Whenever he was about to use
+it as an instrument of punishment, he had a peculiar way of handling it,
+which soon taught them to tremble. He would feel the whole length of it
+very slowly and carefully as if it were the edge of a razor&mdash;then raise
+it parallel with the eyes, and closing one, looked at it steadily with
+the other. Then lifting it suddenly above his head, he would extend his
+broad, left palm, and give himself a blow that would make them all start
+from their seats. Of all crimes or vices, none excited his indignation
+so much as laziness. It was with him the unpardonable sin. There was
+toleration, forgiveness for every one but the <em>sluggard</em>. He said
+Solomon&#8217;s description of the slothful should be written in letters of
+gold on the walls of the understanding. He explained it to them as a
+metaphor, and made them to understand that the field of the sluggard,
+overgrown with thorns and nettles, was only an image of the neglected
+and uncultivated mind. He gave them Doctor Watts&#8217; versification of it to
+commit to memory, and repeated it with them in concert. It is not
+strange that Mittie, who never came to him with a neglected or imperfect
+lesson, should be a great favorite with him, and that he should make her
+the <em>star pupil</em> of the school.</p>
+
+<p>Mittie was not afraid of being eclipsed by Helen, in the new sphere on
+which she had entered. At home the latter was more petted and caressed,
+the object of deeper tenderness, but there she reigned supreme, and the
+pet of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> household would find herself nothing more than a cipher. She
+was mistaken. It was impossible to look upon Helen without interest, and
+Master Hightower seemed especially drawn towards her. He bent down till
+he overshadowed her with his loftiness, then smiling at the quick
+withdrawal of her soft, wild, shy glances, he took her up in his lap as
+if she were a plaything, sent for his amusement.</p>
+
+<p>Mittie was not pleased at this, for though she thought herself entirely
+too much of a woman to be treated with such endearing familiarity, she
+could not bear to see such caresses bestowed on another.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I wonder,&#8221; she said to herself, with a darkening countenance, &#8220;I wonder
+what any one can see in such a little goose as Helen, <em>to take on</em>
+about? Little simpleton! she&#8217;s afraid of her own shadow! Never mind!
+wait awhile! When he finds out how lazy she is, he&#8217;ll put her on a
+lower, harder seat than his lap.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was true that Helen soon lost cast with the uncompromising enemy of
+idleness. She had fallen into a habit of reverie, which made it
+impossible for her to fix her mind on a given lesson. Her imagination
+had acquired so much more strength than her other faculties, that she
+could not convert the monarch into the vassal. She would try to memorize
+the page before her, and resolutely set herself to the task, but the
+wing of a snow-bird fluttering by the window, or the buzzing of a fly
+round the warm stove, would distract her attention and call up trains of
+thought as wild as irrelevant. Sometimes she would bend down her head,
+and press both hands upon it, to keep it in an obedient position; but
+all in vain!&mdash;her vagrant imagination would wander far away to the
+confines of the spirit-land.</p>
+
+<p>Master Hightower coaxed, reasoned with her, scolded, threatened, did
+every thing but punish. He could not have the heart to apply the black
+ruler to that little delicate hand. He could not give a blow to one who
+looked up in his face with such soft, deprecating, fearful eyes&mdash;but he
+grew vexed with the child, and feeling of the edge of his ruler
+half-a-dozen times, declared he did not know what to do with her.</p>
+
+<p>One night Mittie lingered behind the rest, and told him that if he would
+shut up Helen somewhere alone, <em>in the dark</em>, he would have no more
+trouble with her; that her father<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> had said that it was the only way to
+make her study. It was true that Mr. Gleason had remarked, in a jesting
+way, when told of Helen&#8217;s neglect of her lessons, that he must get Mr.
+Hightower to have a dark closet made, and he would have no more trouble;
+but he never intended such a cruelty to be inflicted on his child. This
+Mittie well knew, but as she had no sympathy with her sister&#8217;s fears,
+she had no compassion for the sufferings they caused. She thought she
+deserved punishment, and felt a malicious pleasure in anticipating its
+infliction.</p>
+
+<p>Master Hightower had no dark closet, but there was room enough in his
+high, dark, capacious desk, for a larger body than the slender, delicate
+Helen. He resolved to act upon Mittie&#8217;s admirable hint, knowing it would
+not hurt the child to enclose her awhile in a nice, warm, snug place,
+with books and manuscripts for her companions.</p>
+
+<p>Helen heard the threat without alarm, for she believed it uttered in
+sport. The pleasant glance of the eye contradicted the severity of the
+lips. But Master Hightower was anxious to try the experiment, since all
+approved methods had failed, and when the little delinquent blushed and
+hung her head, stammering a faint excuse for her slighted task, he said
+nothing, but slowly lifting up the lid of his desk, he placed his black
+ruler in a perpendicular position, letting the lid rest upon it, forming
+an obtuse angle with the desk. Then he piled the books in the back part,
+leaving a cavity in front, which looked something like a bower in a
+greenwood, for it was lined with baize within and without.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come my little lady,&#8221; said he, taking her up in his arms, &#8220;I am going
+to try the effect of a little solitary confinement. They say you are not
+very fond of the <em>dark</em>. Well, I am going to keep you here all night, if
+you don&#8217;t promise to study hereafter.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Helen writhed in his strong grasp, but the worm might as well attempt to
+escape from under the giant&#8217;s heel, as the child from the powerful hold
+of the master. He laid her down in the green nest, as if she were a
+downy feather, then putting a book between the lid and the desk, to
+admit the fresh air, closed the lid and leaned his heavy elbow upon it.
+The children laughed at the novelty of the punishment, all but the
+orphan child; but when they heard suppressed sobs<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> issuing from the
+desk, they checked their mirth, and tears of sympathy stole down the
+cheeks of the gentle orphan girl. Mittie&#8217;s black eyes sparkled with
+excitement; she was proud because the master had acted upon her
+suggestion, and inflicted a punishment which, though it involved
+humiliation, gave no real suffering.</p>
+
+<p>Burning with shame, and shivering with apprehension, Helen lay in her
+darkened nook, while the hum of recitation murmured in a dull roaring
+sound around her. It was a cold winter&#8217;s day and she was very warmly
+clad, so that she soon experienced a glowing warmth in the confined air
+she was breathing. This warmth, so oppressive, and the monotonous sound
+stealing in through the aperture of the desk, caused an irresistible
+drowsiness, and her eye-lids heavy with the weight of tears,
+involuntarily closed. When the master, astonished at the perfect
+stillness with which, after awhile, she endured the restraint, softly
+peeped within, she was lying in a deep sleep, her head pillowed on her
+arm, the tear-drops glittering on her cheeks. Cramped as she was, the
+unconscious grace of childhood lent a charm to her position, and her
+sable dress, contrasting with the pallor of her complexion, appealed for
+compassion and sympathy. The teacher&#8217;s heart smote him for the coercion
+he had used.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I will not disturb her now,&#8221; thought he; &#8220;she is sleeping so sweetly. I
+will take her out when school is dismissed. I think she will remember
+this lesson.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Suffering the lid to fall noiselessly on the book, he resumed his tasks,
+which were not closed till the last beams of the wintry sun glimmered on
+the landscape. The days were now very short, and in his enthusiastic
+devotion to his duties, the shades of twilight often gathered around him
+unawares.</p>
+
+<p>It was his custom to dismiss his scholars one by one, beginning with the
+largest, and winding up with the smallest. It was one of his rules that
+they should go directly home, without lingering to play round the door
+of the school-house, and they knew the Mede and Persian character of his
+laws too well to disobey them. When Mittie went out, making a demure
+curtsey at the door, she lingered a little longer than usual, supposing
+he would release Helen from her prison house; but Master Hightower was
+one of the most absent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> men in the world, and he had forgotten the
+little prisoner in her quiet nest.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; thought Mittie, &#8220;I suppose he is going to keep her a while
+longer, and she can go home very well without me. I am going to stay all
+night with Cherry-cheeks, and if Miss Thusa makes a fuss about her
+darling, I shall not be there to hear it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Master Hightower generally lingered behind his pupils to see that all
+was safe, the fire extinguished in the stove, the windows fastened down,
+and the shutters next to the street closed. After attending deliberately
+to these things, he took down his hat and cloak, drew on his warm woolen
+gloves, went out, and locked the door. It was so late that lights were
+beginning to gleam through the blinds of many a dwelling-house as he
+walked along.</p>
+
+<p>In the meantime, Helen slumbered, unconscious of the solitude in which
+she was plunged. When she awoke, she found herself in utter darkness,
+and in stillness so deep, it was more appalling than the darkness. She
+knew not at first where she was. When she attempted to move, her limbs
+ached from their long constraint, and the arm that supported her head
+was fast asleep. At length, tossing up her right hand, she felt the
+resisting lid, and remembered the punishment she had been enduring. She
+tried to spring out, but fell back several times on her sleeping arm,
+and it was long before she was able to accomplish her release in the
+darkness. She knew not where she was jumping, and fell head first
+against the master&#8217;s high-backed chair. If she was hurt she did not know
+it, she was so paralyzed by terror. She could not be alone! They would
+not be so cruel as to leave her there the live-long winter&#8217;s night. They
+were only frightening her! Mittie must he hiding there, waiting for her.
+<em>She</em> was not afraid of the dark.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sister,&#8221; she whispered. &#8220;Sister,&#8221; she murmured, in a louder tone.
+&#8220;Where are you? Come and take my hand.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The echo of her own voice sounded fearful, in those silent walls. She
+dared not call again. Her eyes, accustomed to the gloom, began to
+distinguish the outline of objects. She could see where the long rows of
+benches stood, and the windows, all except those next the street, grew
+whiter and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> whiter, for the ground was covered with snow, and some of it
+had been drifted against the glass. All at once Helen remembered the
+<em>room</em>, all dressed in white, and she felt the <em>cold presence</em>, which
+had so often congealed her heart. Her dead mother seemed before her, in
+the horror, yet grandeur, of her last repose. Unable to remain passive
+in body, with such travail in her soul, she rushed towards the
+door&mdash;finding the way with her groping hands. It was locked. She tried
+the windows&mdash;they were fastened. She shrieked&mdash;but there was none to
+hear. No! there was no escape&mdash;no hope. She must stay there the whole
+long, dark night, if she lived, to see the morning&#8217;s dawn. With the
+conviction of the hopelessness of her situation, there arose a feeling,
+partly despair and partly resignation. She was very cold, for the fire
+had long been extinguished, and she could not find her cloak to cover
+her.</p>
+
+<p>She was sure she would freeze to death before morning, and Master
+Hightower, when he came to open the school, would see her lying stiff
+and frozen on the floor, and be sorry he had been so cruel. Yes! she
+would freeze, and it was no matter, for no one cared for her; no one
+thought of coming to look for her. Father, brother, Miss Thusa,
+Mittie&mdash;all had deserted her. Had her mother lived, <em>she</em> would have
+remembered her little Helen. The young doctor, he who had been so kind
+and good, who had come to her before in the hour of danger, perhaps he
+would pity her, if he knew of her being locked up there in loneliness
+and darkness.</p>
+
+<p>Several times she heard sleighs driving along, the bells ringing merrily
+and loud, and she thought they were going to stop&mdash;but they flew swiftly
+by. She felt as the mariner feels on a desert island, when he spies a
+distant sail, and tries in vain to arrest the vessel, that glides on,
+unheeding his signal of distress.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I will say my prayers,&#8221; she said, &#8220;if I have no bed to lie down on. If
+God ever heard me, He will listen now, for I&#8217;ve nobody but Him to go
+to.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Kneeling down in the darkness, and folding her hands reverently, while
+she lifted them upwards, she softly repeated the prayer her mother had
+taught her, and, for the first time, the spirit of it entered her
+understanding. When she came to the words&mdash;&#8220;Give us this day our daily
+bread,&#8221; she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> paused. &#8220;Thou hast given it,&#8221; she added, &#8220;and oh! God, I
+thank Thee.&#8221; When she repeated&mdash;&#8220;Forgive my sins,&#8221; she thought of the
+sin, for which she was suffering so dreadful a punishment. She had
+sinned in disobeying so kind a teacher. She ought to study, instead of
+thinking of far-off things. She did not wonder the master was angry with
+her. It was her own fault, for he had told her what he was going to do
+with her; and if she had not been idle, she might have been at home by a
+warm fire, safe in a father&#8217;s sheltering arms. For the first time she
+added something original and spontaneous to the ritual she had learned.
+When she had finished the beautiful and sublime doxology, she bowed her
+head still lower, and repeated, in accents trembling with penitence and
+humility&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Only take care of me to-night, our Father who art in heaven, and I will
+try and sin no more.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Was she indeed left forgotten there, till morning&#8217;s dawn?</p>
+
+<p>When Master Hightower bent his steps homeward, he was solving a
+peripatetic problem of Euclid. When he arrived at his lodgings, seated
+himself by the blazing fire, and stretched out his massy limbs to meet
+the genial heat, in the luxurious comfort he enjoyed, the cares, the
+bustle, the events of the day were forgotten. A smoking supper made him
+still more luxuriously comfortable, and a deeper oblivion stole over
+him. It was not likely that the fragrant cigar he then lighted as the
+crowning blessing of the evening, would recall to his mind the fireless,
+supperless, comfortless culprit he had left in such &#8220;durance vile.&#8221;
+Combing his hair suddenly with the fingers of his left hand, and leaning
+back in a floating position, he watched the smoke-rings, curling above
+his head, and fell into a reverie on Natural Philosophy. He was
+interrupted by the entrance of Arthur Hazleton, the young doctor.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I called for the new work on Chemistry, which I lent you some time
+since,&#8221; said Arthur. &#8220;Is it perfectly convenient for you to let me have
+it now?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am very sorry,&#8221; replied the master, &#8220;I left it in the school-room, in
+my desk.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His desk! yes! and he had left something else there too.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I will go and get it,&#8221; he cried, starting up, suddenly,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> his face
+reddening to his temples. &#8220;I will get it, and carry it over to you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, give me the key of the school-house, and I will spare you the
+trouble. It is on my homeward way.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I <em>must</em> go myself,&#8221; he replied, cloaking himself with wonderful
+celerity, and taking a lantern from the shelf. &#8220;You can wait here, till
+I return.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No such thing,&#8221; said Arthur. &#8220;Why should I wait here, when I might be
+so far on my way home?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The master saw that it was in vain to conceal from him the incarceration
+of little Helen, an act for which he felt sorry and ashamed; but
+thinking she might still be asleep, and that he might abstract the book
+without the young doctor being aware of her presence, he strode on in
+silence, with a speed almost superhuman.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You forget what tremendous long limbs you have,&#8221; exclaimed the young
+doctor, breathless, and laughing, &#8220;or you would have more mercy on your
+less gifted brethren.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes&mdash;yes&mdash;I do forget,&#8221; cried his excited companion, unconsciously
+betraying his secret, &#8220;as that poor little creature knows, to her cost.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I may as well tell you all about it,&#8221; he added, answering Arthur&#8217;s look
+of surprise and curiosity, seen by the lantern&#8217;s gleam&mdash;&#8220;since I
+couldn&#8217;t keep it to myself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He then related the punishment he had inflicted on Helen, and how he had
+left her, forgotten and alone.</p>
+
+<p>The benevolent heart of the young doctor was not only pained, but
+alarmed by the recital. He feared for the effects of this long
+imprisonment on a child so exquisitely sensitive and timid.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t know the child,&#8221; said he, hastening his pace, till even the
+master&#8217;s long strides did not sweep more rapidly over the snowy ground.
+&#8220;You have made a fatal experiment. I should not be surprised if you made
+her a maniac or an idiot.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Heaven forbid!&#8221; cried the conscience-stricken teacher, and his huge
+hand trembled on the lock of the door.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Go in first,&#8221; said he to Arthur, giving him the lantern. &#8220;She will be
+less afraid of you than of me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Arthur opened the door, and shading the lantern, so as to soften its
+glare, he went in with cautious steps. A little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> black figure, with
+white hands and white face, was kneeling between the desk and the stove.
+The hands were clasped so tightly, they looked as if they had grown
+together, and the face had a still, marble look&mdash;but life, intensely
+burning life was in the large, wild eyes uplifted to his own.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Helen, my child!&#8221; said he, setting the lantern on the stove, and
+stooping till his hair, silvered with the night-frost, touched her
+cheek.</p>
+
+<p>With a faint but thrilling cry, she sprang forward, and threw her arms
+round his neck; and there she clung, sobbing one moment, and laughing
+the next, in an ecstasy of joy and gratitude.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I thought you&#8217;d come, if you knew it,&#8221; she cried.</p>
+
+<p>This implicit confidence in his protection, touched the young man, and
+he wrapped his arms more closely round her shivering frame.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How cold you are!&#8221; he exclaimed. &#8220;Let me fold my cloak about you, and
+put both your hands in mine, they are like pieces of ice.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Helen, you poor little forlorn lamb,&#8221; cried a rough, husky voice&mdash;and
+the sudden eclipse of a great shadow passed over her. &#8220;Helen, I did not
+mean to leave you here&mdash;on my soul I did not. I forgot all about you. As
+I hope to be forgiven for my cruelty, it is true. I only meant to keep
+you here till school was dismissed&mdash;and I have let you stay till you are
+starved, and frozen, and almost dead.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It was my fault,&#8221; replied Helen, in a meek, subdued tone, &#8220;but I&#8217;ll try
+and study better, if you won&#8217;t shut me up here any more.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Bless the child!&#8221; exclaimed the master, &#8220;what a little angel of
+goodness she is. You shall have all the sunshine of the broad earth,
+after this, for all my shutting out one ray from your sweet face. That&#8217;s
+right&mdash;bring her along, doctor, under your cloak, and don&#8217;t let the
+frost bite her nose&mdash;I&#8217;ll carry the lantern.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wondering that the father had not sought for his lost child, Arthur
+carried her home, while the master carefully lighted their slippery
+path.</p>
+
+<p>Great was the astonishment of Mr. Gleason, on seeing his little daughter
+brought home in such a state, for he imagined her at the fireside of one
+of her companions, in company<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> with her sister. Her absence had
+consequently created no alarm.</p>
+
+<p>Not all the regret and compunction expressed by Master Hightower could
+quell the rising surge of anger in the father&#8217;s breast. His brow grew
+dark, and Miss Thusa&#8217;s darker still.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To lock up a poor, little motherless thing, such a night as this!&#8221;
+muttered she, putting her spectacles, the thermometer of her anger, on
+the top of her head. &#8220;To leave her there to perish. Why, the wild beasts
+themselves would be ashamed of such behaviour, let alone a man.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t, Miss Thusa,&#8221; whispered Helen, &#8220;he is sorry as he can be. I was
+bad, too, for I didn&#8217;t mind him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I do not wonder at your displeasure, sir,&#8221; said the master, turning to
+Mr. Gleason, with dignity; &#8220;I deserve to feel it, for my unpardonable
+forgetfulness. But I must say in my defence, I never should have thought
+of such a punishment, had it not been suggested by yourself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Suggested by me!&#8221; repeated Mr. Gleason, angrily; &#8220;I don&#8217;t know what you
+mean, sir!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your eldest daughter brought me a message, to this effect&mdash;that you
+desired me to try solitary confinement in the dark, as the most
+effectual means to bring her to obedience; having no other dark place, I
+shut her in my desk, and never having deposited a living bundle there
+before, I really think I ought to be pardoned for forgetting her.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is it possible my daughter carried such a message to you from <em>me</em>,&#8221;
+cried Mr. Gleason, &#8220;I never sent it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Just like Mittie,&#8221; cried Miss Thusa, &#8220;she&#8217;s always doing something to
+spite Helen. I heard her say myself once, that she despised her, because
+everybody took her part. Take her part&mdash;sure enough. The Lord Almighty
+knows that a person has to be abused before we <em>can</em> take their part.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hush!&#8221; exclaimed Mr. Gleason, mortified as this disclosure of Mittie&#8217;s
+unamiable disposition, and shocked at the instance first made known to
+him. &#8220;This is not a proper time for such remarks; I don&#8217;t wish to hear
+them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You ought to hear them, whether you want to or not,&#8221; continued the
+indomitable spinster, &#8220;and I don&#8217;t see any use in palavering the truth.
+Master Hightower and Mr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> Arthur knows it by this time, and there&#8217;s no
+harm in talking before them. Helen&#8217;s an uncommon child. She&#8217;s no more
+like other children, than my fine linen thread is like twisted tow. She
+won&#8217;t bear hard pulling or rough handling. Mittie isn&#8217;t good to her
+sister. You ought to have heard Helen&#8217;s mother talk about it before she
+died. She was afraid of worrying you, she was so tender of your
+feelings. &#8216;But Miss Thusa,&#8217; says she, &#8216;the only thing that keeps me from
+being willing to die, is this child;&#8217; meaning Helen, to be sure. &#8216;But,
+oh, Miss Thusa,&#8217; says she, and her eyes filled up with tears, &#8216;watch
+over her, for my sake, and see that she is gently dealt by.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A long, deep sigh burst from the heart of the widower, sacred to the
+memory of his buried wife. Another heaved the ample breast of the master
+for the disclosure of his favorite pupil&#8217;s unamiable traits.</p>
+
+<p>The young doctor sighed, for the evils he saw by anticipation impending
+over his little favorite&#8217;s head. He thought of his gentle mother, his
+lovely blind sister, of his sweet, quiet home, and wished that Helen
+could be embosomed in its hallowed shades. Young as he was, he felt a
+kind of fatherly interest in the child&mdash;she had been so often thrown
+upon him for sympathy and protection. (His youth may be judged by the
+epithet attached to his name. There were several young physicians in the
+town, but he was universally known as <em>the</em> young doctor.) From the
+first, he was singularly drawn towards the child. He pitied her, for he
+saw she had such deep capacities of suffering&mdash;he loved her for her
+dependence and helplessness, her grateful and confiding disposition. He
+wished she were placed in the midst of more genial elements. He feared
+less the unnatural unkindness of Mittie, than the devotion and
+tenderness of Miss Thusa&mdash;for the latter fed, as with burning gas, her
+too inflammable imagination.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The next time I visit home,&#8221; said the young doctor to himself, &#8220;I will
+speak to my mother of this interesting child.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>When Mittie was brought face to face with her father; he upbraided her
+sternly for her falsehood, and for making use of his name as a sanction
+for her cruelty.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You did say so, father!&#8221; said she, looking him boldly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> in the face,
+though the color mounted to her brow. &#8220;You did say so&mdash;and I can prove
+it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You know what I said was uttered in jest,&#8221; replied the justly incensed
+parent; &#8220;that it was never given as a message; that it was said to her,
+not you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t give it as a message,&#8221; cried Mittie, undauntedly; &#8220;I said that
+I had heard you say so&mdash;and so I did. Ask Master Hightower, if you don&#8217;t
+believe me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was something so insolent in her manner, so defying in her
+countenance, that Mr. Gleason, who was naturally passionate, became so
+exasperated that he lifted his hand with a threatening gesture, but the
+pleading image of his gentle wife rose before him and arrested the
+chastisement.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I cannot punish the child whose mother lies in the grave,&#8221; said he, in
+an agitated tone, suffering his arm to fall relaxed by his side. &#8220;But
+Mittie, you are making me very unhappy by your misconduct. Tell me why
+you dislike your innocent little sister, and delight in giving her pain,
+when she is meek and gentle as a lamb?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Because you all love her better than you do me,&#8221; she answered, her
+scornful under lip slightly quivering. &#8220;Brother Louis don&#8217;t care for me;
+he always gives every thing he has to Helen. Miss Thusa pets her all the
+day long, just because she listens to her ugly old stories; and you&mdash;and
+you, always take her part against me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mittie, don&#8217;t let me hear you make use of that ridiculous phrase again;
+it means nothing, and has a low, vulgar sound. Come here, my daughter&mdash;I
+thought you did not care about our love.&#8221; He took her by the hand and
+drew her in spite of her resistance, between his knees. Then stroking
+back the black and shining hair from her high, bold brow, he added,</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are mistaken, Mittie, if you do not think that we love you. I love
+you with a father&#8217;s tender affection; I have never given you reason to
+doubt it. If I show more love for Helen, it is only because she is
+younger, smaller, and winds herself more closely around me by her
+loving, affectionate ways; she seems to love me better, to love us all
+better. That is the secret, Mittie; it is love; cling to our hearts as
+Helen does, and we will never cast you off.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t do as Helen does, for I&#8217;m not like her,&#8221; said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> Mittie, tossing
+back her hair with her own peculiar motion, &#8220;and I don&#8217;t want to be like
+her; she&#8217;s nothing but a coward, though she makes believe half the time,
+to be petted, I know she does.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Incorrigible child;&#8221; cried the father, pushing back his chair, rising
+and walking the room back and forth, with a sad and clouded brow. He had
+many misgivings for the future. The frank, convivial, generous spirit of
+Louis would lead him into temptation, when exposed to the influence of
+seducing companions. Mittie&#8217;s jealous and unyielding temper would
+embitter the peace of the household; while Helen&#8217;s morbid sensibility,
+like a keen-edged sword in a thin, frail scabbard, threatened to wear
+away her young life. What firmness&mdash;yea, what gentleness&mdash;yea, what
+wisdom, what holy Christian principles were requisite for the
+responsibilities resting upon him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;May God guide and sustain me,&#8221; he cried, pausing and looking upward.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;May I go, sir?&#8221; asked Mittie, who had been watching her father&#8217;s
+varying countenance, and felt somewhat awed by the deep solemnity and
+sadness that settled upon it. Her manner, if not affectionate was
+respectful, and he dismissed her with a gleaming hope that the clue to
+her heart&#8217;s labyrinth&mdash;that labyrinth which seemed now closed with an
+immovable rock, might yet be discovered.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Oh, wanton malice! deathful sport!<br />
+<span class="i1">Could ye not spare my all?</span><br />
+But mark my words, on thy cold heart<br />
+<span class="i1">A fiery doom will fall.&#8221;</span></p>
+
+
+<p class="firstpar"><span class="smcap">The</span> incident recorded in the last chapter, resulted in benefit to two of
+the actors. It gave a spring to the dormant energies of Helen, and a
+check to the vengeance of Mittie.</p>
+
+<p>The winter glided imperceptibly away, and as imperceptibly vernal bloom
+and beauty stole over the face of nature.</p>
+
+<p>In the spring of the year, Miss Thusa always engaged in a very
+interesting process&mdash;that is, bleaching the flaxen thread which she had
+been spinning during the winter. She now made a permanent home at Mr.
+Gleason&#8217;s, and superintended the household concerns, pursuing at the
+same time the occupation to which she had devoted the strength and
+intensity of her womanhood.</p>
+
+<p>There was a beautiful grassy lawn extending from the southern side of
+the building, with a gradual slope towards the sun, whose margin was
+watered by the clearest, bluest, gayest little singing brook in the
+world. This was called Miss Thusa&#8217;s bleaching ground, and nature seemed
+to have laid it out for her especial use. There was the smooth, fresh,
+green sward, all ready for her to lay her silky brown thread upon, and
+there was the pure water running by, where she could fill her watering
+pot, morning, noon and night, and saturate the fibres exposed to the
+sun&#8217;s bleaching rays. And there was a thick row of blossoming lilac
+bushes shading the lower windows the whole breadth of the building, in
+which innumerable golden and azure-colored birds made their nests, and
+beguiled the spinster&#8217;s labors with their melodious carrolings.</p>
+
+<p>Helen delighted in assisting Miss Thusa in watering her thread, and
+watching the gradual change from brown to a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> pale brown, and then to a
+silver gray, melting away into snowy whiteness, like the bright brown
+locks of youth, fading away into the dim hoariness of age. When weary of
+dipping water from the wimpling brook, she would sit under the lilac
+bushes, and look at Miss Thusa&#8217;s sybilline figure, moving slowly over
+the grass, swaying the watering-pot up and down in her right hand,
+scattering ten thousand liquid diamonds as she moved. Sometimes the
+rainbows followed her steps, and Helen thought it was a glorious sight.</p>
+
+<p>One day as Helen tripped up and down the velvet sward by her side,
+admiring the silky white skeins spread multitudinously there, Miss
+Thusa, gave an oracular nod, and said she believed that was the last
+watering, that all they needed was one more night&#8217;s dew, one more
+morning sun, and then they could be twisted in little hanks ready to be
+dispatched in various directions.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am proud of that thread,&#8221; said Miss Thusa, casting back a lingering
+look of affection and pride as she closed the gate. &#8220;It is the best I
+ever spun&mdash;I don&#8217;t believe there is a rough place in it from beginning
+to end. It was the best flax I ever had, in the first place. When I
+pulled it out and wound it round the distaff, it looked like ravelled
+silk, it was so smooth and fine. Then there&#8217;s such a powerful quantity
+of it. Well, it&#8217;s my winter&#8217;s work.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Poor Miss Thusa! You had better take one more look on those beautiful,
+silvery rings&mdash;for never more will your eyes be gladdened by their
+beauty! There is a worm in your gourd, a canker in your flower, a cloud
+floating darkly over those shining filaments.</p>
+
+<p>It is astonishing how wantonly the spirit of mischief sometimes revels
+in the bosom of childhood! What wild freaks and excursions its
+superabundant energies indulge in! And when mischief is led on by
+malice, it can work wonders in the way of destruction.</p>
+
+<p>It happened that Mittie had a gathering of her school companions in the
+latter part of the day on which we have just entered. Helen, tired of
+their rude sports, walked away to some quiet nook, with the orphan
+child. Mittie played Queen over the rest, in a truly royal style. At
+last, weary of singing and jumping the rope, and singing &#8220;Merry
+O&#8217;Jenny,&#8221; they launched into bolder amusements. They<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> ran over the
+flower-beds, leaping from bed to bed, trampling down many a fair, vernal
+bud, and then trying their gymnastics by climbing the fences and the low
+trees. A white railing divided Miss Thusa&#8217;s bleaching ground, with its
+winding rill, from the garden, and as they peeped at the white thread
+shining on the grass, thinking the flaming sword of Miss Thusa&#8217;s anger
+guarded that enclosure, Mittie suddenly exclaimed:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let us jump over and dance among Miss Thusa&#8217;s thread. It will be better
+than all the rest.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, no,&#8221; cried several, drawing back, &#8220;it would be wrong. And I&#8217;m
+afraid of her. I wouldn&#8217;t make her mad for all the world.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll leave the gate open, and she&#8217;ll think the calves have broken in,&#8221;
+cried Mittie, emboldened by the absence of her father, and feeling
+safety in numbers. &#8220;Cowards,&#8221; repeated she, seeing they still drew back.
+&#8220;Cowards!&mdash;just like Helen. I despise to see any one afraid of any
+thing. I hate old Madam Thusa, and every thing that belongs to her.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Vaulting over the fence, for there would have been no amusement in going
+through the gate, Mittie led the way to the forbidden ground, and it was
+not long before her companions, yielding to the influence of her bold,
+adventurous spirit, followed. Disdaining to cross the rustic bridge that
+spanned the brook, they took off their shoes and waded over its pebbly
+bed. They knew Miss Thusa&#8217;s room was on the opposite side of the house,
+and while running round it, they had heard the hum of her busy wheel, so
+they did not fear her watching eye.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now,&#8221; said Mittie, catching one of the skeins with her nimble feet, and
+tossing it in the air; &#8220;who will play cat&#8217;s cradle with me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The idea of playing cat&#8217;s cradle with the toes, for they had not resumed
+their shoes and stockings, was so original and laughable, it was
+received with acclamation, and wild with excitement they rushed in the
+midst of Miss Thusa&#8217;s treasures&mdash;and such a twist and snarl as they made
+was never seen before. They tied more Gordian knots than a hundred
+Alexanders could sever, made more tangles than Princess Graciosa in the
+fairy tale could untie.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What shall we do with it now?&#8221; they cried, when the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> novelty of the
+occupation wore off, and conscience began to give them a few remorseful
+twinges.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Roll it up in a ball and throw it in the brook,&#8221; said Mittie, &#8220;she&#8217;ll
+think some of her witches have carried it off. I&#8217;ll pay her for it,&#8221; she
+added, with a scornful laugh, &#8220;if she finds us out and makes a fuss. It
+can&#8217;t be worth more than a dollar&mdash;and I would give twice as much as
+that any time to spite the old thing.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>So they wound up the dirty, tangled, ruined thread into a great ball,
+and plunged it into the stream that had so often laved the whitening
+filaments. Had Miss Thusa seen it sinking into the blue, sunny water,
+she would have felt as the mariner does when the corpse of a loved
+companion is let down into the burying wave.</p>
+
+<p>In a few moments the gate was shut, the green slope smiled in answer to
+the mellow smile of the setting sun, the yellow birds frightened away by
+the noisy groups, flew back to their nests, among the fragrant lilacs,
+and the stream gurgled as calmly as if no costly wreck lay within its
+bosom.</p>
+
+<p>When the last beam of the sinking sun glanced upon her distaff, turning
+the fibres to golden filaments, Miss Thusa paused, and the crank gave a
+sudden, upward jerk, as if rejoiced at the coming rest. Putting her
+wheel carefully in its accustomed corner, she descended the stairs, and
+bent her steps to the bleaching ground. She met Helen at the gate, who
+remembered the trysting hour.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Bless the child,&#8221; cried Miss Thusa, with a benevolent relaxation of her
+harsh features, &#8220;she never forgets any thing that&#8217;s to do for another.
+Never mind getting the watering-pot now. There&#8217;ll be a plenty of dew
+falling.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Taking Helen by the hand she crossed the rustic bridge; but as she
+approached the green, she slackened her pace and drew her spectacles
+over her eyes. Then taking them off and rubbing them with her silk
+handkerchief, she put them on again and stood still, stooping forward,
+and gazing like one bewildered.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where is the thread, Miss Thusa?&#8221; exclaimed Helen, running before her,
+and springing on the slope. &#8220;When did you take it away?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Take it away!&#8221; cried she. &#8220;Take it away! I never <em>did</em> take it away.
+But <em>somebody</em> has taken it&mdash;stolen it, carried<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> it off, every skein of
+it&mdash;not a piece left the length of my finger, my finger nail. The vile
+thieves!&mdash;all my winter&#8217;s labor&mdash;six long months&#8217; work&mdash;dead and buried!
+for all me&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Poor Miss Thusa!&#8221; said Helen, in a pitying accent. She was afraid to
+say more&mdash;there was something so awe-inspiring in the mingled wrath and
+grief of Miss Thusa&#8217;s countenance.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s the matter?&#8221; cried a spirited voice. Louis appeared on the
+bridge, swinging his hat in the air, his short, thick curls waving in
+the breeze.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Somebody&#8217;s stolen all Miss Thusa&#8217;s thread,&#8221; exclaimed Helen, running to
+meet him, &#8220;her nice thread, that was just white enough to put away. Only
+think, Louis, how wicked!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh! Miss Thusa, it can&#8217;t be stolen,&#8221; said Louis, coming to the spot
+where she stood, the image of indignant despair; &#8220;somebody has hidden it
+to tease you. I&#8217;ll help you to find it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>This seemed so natural a supposition, that Miss Thusa&#8217;s iron features
+relaxed a little, and she glanced round the enclosure, more in
+condescension than hope, surveying the boughs of the lilacs, drooping
+with their weight of purple blossoms, and peering at the gossamer&#8217;s web.</p>
+
+<p>Louis, in the meantime, turned towards the stream, now partially
+enveloped in the dusky shade of twilight, but there was one spot
+sparkling with the rosy light of sunset, and resting snugly &#8217;mid the
+pebbles at the bottom, he spied a large, dingy ball.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah! what&#8217;s this big toad-stool, rising up in the water?&#8221; said he,
+seizing a pole that lay under the bridge, and sticking the end in the
+ball. &#8220;Why this looks as if it had been thread, Miss Thusa, but I don&#8217;t
+know what you will call it now?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Thusa snatched the dripping ball from the pole that bent beneath
+its weight, turned it round several times, bringing it nearer and nearer
+to her eyes at each revolution, then raised it above her head, as if
+about to dash it on the ground; but suddenly changing her resolution,
+she tightened her grasp, and strode into the path leading to the house.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know all about it now,&#8221; she cried, &#8220;I heard the children romping and
+trampling round the house like a drove<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> of wild colts, with Mittie at
+their head; it is she that has done it, and if I don&#8217;t punish her, it
+will be because the Lord Almighty does it for me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Even Louis could scarcely keep up with her rapid strides. He trembled
+for the consequences of her anger, just as it was, and followed close to
+see if Mittie, undaunted as she was, did not shrivel in her gaze.</p>
+
+<p>Mittie was seated in a window, busily studying, or pretending to study,
+not even turning her head, though Miss Thusa&#8217;s steps resounded as if she
+were shod with iron.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Look round, Miss, if you please, and tell me if you know any thing of
+this,&#8221; cried Miss Thusa, laying her left hand on her shoulder, and
+bringing the ball so close to her face that her nose came in contact
+with it.</p>
+
+<p>Mittie jerked away from the hand laid upon her with no velvet pressure,
+without opening her lips, but the guilty blood rising to her face spoke
+eloquently; though she had a kind of Procrustes bed of her own,
+according to which she stretched or curtailed the truth, she had not the
+hardihood to tell an unmitigated falsehood, in the presence of her
+brother, too, and in the light of his truth-beaming eye.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are always accusing <em>me</em> of every thing,&#8221; said she, at length. &#8220;I
+didn&#8217;t do it&mdash;&mdash;all;&#8221; the last syllable was uttered in a low, indistinct
+tone.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are a mean coward,&#8221; cried the spinster, hurling the ball across the
+room with such force that it rebounded against the wall. &#8220;You&#8217;re a
+coward with all your audacity, and do tricks you are ashamed to
+acknowledge. You&#8217;ve spoiled the honest earnings of the whole winter, and
+destroyed the beautifullest suit of thread that ever was spun by mortal
+woman.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can pay you for all I spoiled and more too,&#8221; said Mittie, sullenly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Pay me,&#8221; repeated Miss Thusa, while the scorching fire of her eye
+slowly went out, leaving an expression of profound sorrow. &#8220;Can you pay
+me for a value you can&#8217;t even dream of? Can you pay me for the lonely
+thoughts that twisted themselves up with that thread, day after day, and
+night after night, because they had nothing else to take hold of? Can
+you pay me for these grooves in my fingers&#8217; ends, made by the flax as I
+kept drawing it through, till it often turned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> red with my blood? No,
+no, that thread was as dear to me as my own heart strings&mdash;for they were
+twined all about it; it was like something living to me&mdash;and I loved it
+in the same way as I do little Helen. I shall never, never spin any
+more.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You will spin more merrily than ever,&#8221; cried Louis, soothingly, &#8220;you
+see if you don&#8217;t, Miss Thusa.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Thusa shook her head, and though she almost suffocated herself in
+the effort to repress them, tears actually forced themselves into her
+eyes, and splashed on her cheeks. Seating herself in a low chair, she
+took up the corner of her apron to hide what she considered a shame and
+disgrace, when Helen glided near and wiped away the drops with her own
+handkerchief.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Bless you darling,&#8221; cried the subdued spinster&mdash;&#8220;and you will be
+blessed. There&#8217;s no malice, nor hard-heartedness in <em>you</em>. <em>You</em> never
+turned your foot upon a worm. But as for her,&#8221; continued she, pointing
+prophetically at Mittie, and fixing upon her her grave and gloomy
+eyes&mdash;&#8220;there&#8217;s no blessing in store. She don&#8217;t feel now, but if she
+lives to womanhood she <em>will</em>. The heart of stone will turn to flesh
+then, and every fibre it has got will learn how to quiver, as I&#8217;ve seen
+twisted wire do, when strong fingers pull it&mdash;<em>I know it will</em>. She will
+shed tears one of these days, and no one will wipe them off, as this
+little angel has done for me. I&#8217;ve done, now. I didn&#8217;t mean to say what
+I did, but the Lord put it in my head, and I&#8217;ve spoken according to my
+gift.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mittie ran out of the room before the conclusion of the speech, unable
+to stand the moveless glance, that seemed to burn like heated metal into
+her conscience.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come, Miss Thusa,&#8221; said Louis, amiably, desirous of turning her
+thoughts into a new channel, and pitying while he blamed his offending
+sister, for the humiliation he knew she must endure&mdash;&#8220;come and tell us a
+story, while you are inspired. It is so long since I have heard one! Let
+it be something new and exciting.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t believe I could tell you one to save my life, now,&#8221; replied
+Miss Thusa, her countenance lighting up with a gleam of
+satisfaction&mdash;&#8220;at least I couldn&#8217;t act it out.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Never mind the acting, Miss Thusa, provided we hear the tale. Let it be
+a <em>powerful</em> one.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>&#8220;Don&#8217;t tell the <em>worm-eaten traveler</em>,&#8221; whispered Helen. &#8220;I never want
+to hear that again.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Thusa see-sawed a moment in her low chair, to give a kind of
+balance to her imagination, and then began:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Once there was a maiden, who lived in a forest, a deep wild forest, in
+which there wasn&#8217;t so much as the sign of a path, and nobody but she
+could find their way in or out. How this was, I don&#8217;t know, but it was
+astonishing how many people got lost in those woods, where she rambled
+about as easy as if somebody was carrying a torch before her. Perhaps
+the fairies helped her&mdash;perhaps the evil spirits&mdash;I rather think the
+last, for though she was fair to look upon, her heart was as hard as the
+nether mill-stone.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Thusa caught a glimpse of Mittie, on the porch, through the open
+doors, and she raised her voice, as she proceeded:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;One night, when the moon was shining large and clear, she was wandering
+through the forest, all alone, when she heard a little, tender voice
+behind her, and turning round, she saw a young child, with its hair all
+loose and wet, as &#8217;twere, calling after her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;I&#8217;ve lost my way,&#8217; it cried&mdash;&#8216;pray help me to find a path in the
+greenwood.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Find it by the moonlight,&#8217; answered the maiden, &#8216;it shines for you, as
+well as for me.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;But I&#8217;m little,&#8217; cried the child, beginning to weep, &#8216;and my feet are
+all blistered with running. Take me up in your arms a little while, for
+you are strong, and the Saviour will give you a golden bed in Heaven to
+lie down on.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;I want no golden bed. I had rather sleep on down than gold,&#8217; answered
+the maid, and she mocked the child, and went on, putting her hands to
+her ears, to keep out the cries of the little one, that came through the
+thick trees, with a mighty piteous sound&mdash;the hard-hearted creature!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How cruel!&#8221; said Helen, &#8220;I hope she got lost herself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t interrupt, Helen,&#8221; said Louis, whose eyes were kindling with
+excitement. &#8220;You may be sure she had some punishment.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, that she did,&#8221; continued the narrator, &#8220;and I tell you it was
+worse than being lost, bad as that is. By-and-by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> she came out of the
+forest, into a smooth road, and a horseman galloped to meet her, that
+would have scared anybody else in the world but her. Not that he was so
+ugly, but he was dressed all in black, and he had such a powerful head
+of black hair, that hung all about him like a cloak, and mixed up with
+the horse&#8217;s flowing mane, and that was black too, and so was his horse,
+and so were his eyes, but his forehead was as white as snow, and his
+cheeks were fair and ruddy. He rode right up to the young maiden, and
+reaching down, swung his arm round her, and put her up before him on the
+saddle, and away they rode, as swift as a weaver&#8217;s shuttle. I don&#8217;t
+believe a horse ever went so fast before. Every little stone his hoofs
+struck, would blaze up, just for a second, making stars all along the
+road. As they flew on, his long black hair got twisted all around her,
+and every time the wind blew, it grew tighter and tighter, till she
+could scarcely breathe, and she prayed him to stop, and unwind his long
+black hair, before it reached her throat, for as sure as she was alive
+then, it would strangle her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;You have hands as well as I,&#8217; said he, with a mocking laugh, &#8216;unwind
+it yourself, fair maiden.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then she remembered what she had said to the poor little lost child,
+and she cried out as the child did, when she left it alone in the
+forest. All the time the long locks of hair seemed taking root in her
+heart, and drawing it every step they went.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Now,&#8217; said her companion, reining up his black horse, &#8216;I&#8217;ll release
+you.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And unsheathing a sharp dagger, he cut the hair through and through, so
+that part of it fell on the ground in a black shower. Then giving her a
+swing, he let her fall by the way-side, and rode on hurraing by the
+light of the moon.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Thusa paused to take breath, and wiped her spectacles, as if she
+had been reading with them all the time she had been talking.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is that all?&#8221; asked Helen.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, indeed, that cannot be the end,&#8221; said Louis. &#8220;Go on Miss Thusa. The
+black knight ought to be scourged for leaving her there on the ground.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There she lay,&#8221; resumed Miss Thusa, &#8220;moaning and bewailing, for her
+heart&#8217;s blood was oozing out through every<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> wound his dagger had made,
+for I told you his locks had taken root in her heart, and he cut the
+cords when he slashed about among his own long, black hair.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;I&#8217;m dying,&#8217; said the maiden. &#8216;Oh, what would I give now for that
+golden bed of the Saviour, the little child promised me.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Just then she heard the patter of little feet among the fallen leaves,
+and looking up, there was the child, sure enough, right by her side, and
+there was something bright and shining all around its head. How it found
+its way out of the woods, the Lord only knows. Well, the child didn&#8217;t
+bear one bit of malice, for it was a holy child, and kneeling down, it
+took a crystal vial from its bosom, and poured balm on the bleeding
+heart of the maiden, and healed every wound.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;You are a holy child,&#8217; said the maiden, rising up, and taking the
+child in her arms, and pressing her close to her bosom. &#8216;I know it by
+the light around your head. I&#8217;ll love all little children for your sake,
+and nevermore mock the cry of sorrow or of want.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So they went away together into the deep woods, and one could see the
+moon shining on them, every now and then, through the trees, and it was
+a lovely sight.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was silence for a few moments after Miss Thusa finished her
+legend, for never had she related any thing so impressively.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Miss Thusa,&#8221; cried Helen, &#8220;that is the prettiest story I ever heard
+you relate. I am glad the child was not lost, and I am glad that the
+maiden did not die, but was sorry for what she had done.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you make up your tales yourself, Miss Thusa,&#8221; asked Louis, &#8220;or do
+you remember them? I cannot imagine where they all come from.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Some are the memories of my childhood;&#8221; replied she, &#8220;and some the
+inventions of my own brain; and some are a little of one and a little of
+the other; and some are the living truth itself. I don&#8217;t always know
+what I am going to say myself, when I begin, but speak as the spirit
+moves. This shows that it is a gift&mdash;praise the Lord.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, Miss Thusa, the spirit moves you to say that the little child
+forgave the cruel maiden, and poured balm upon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> her bleeding heart,&#8221;
+said Louis, with one of his own winning smiles.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And you think an old woman should forgive likewise!&#8221; cried Miss Thusa,
+looking as benignantly as she <em>could</em> look upon the boy. &#8220;You are right,
+you are right, but her heart don&#8217;t bleed yet&mdash;<em>not yet</em>.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mittie, believing herself unseen, had listened to the tale with an
+interest that chained her to the spot where she stood. She unconsciously
+identified herself with the cruel maiden, and in after years she
+remembered the long, sweeping locks of the knight, and the maiden&#8217;s
+bleeding heart.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p>
+<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="PART_SECOND" id="PART_SECOND"></a>PART SECOND.</h2>
+
+
+<h2 class="sectionhead">CHAPTER V.</h2>
+
+<p class="poem"><span class="i6">&#8220;Thus with the year</span><br />
+Seasons return, but not to me returns<br />
+Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn,<br />
+Or signs of vernal bloom, or summer&#8217;s rose,<br />
+Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine.<br />
+But clouds instead, and ever-during dark<br />
+Surround me.&#8221;<br />
+<span class="i10"><cite>Milton.</cite></span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Thou, to whom the world unknown,<br />
+With all its shadowy shapes is shown,<br />
+Who see&#8217;st appalled, th&#8217; unreal scene,<br />
+While Fancy lifts the veil between,<br />
+<span class="i1">Ah, Fear! ah, frantic Fear!</span><br />
+<span class="i1">I see, I see thee near!&#8221;</span><br />
+<span class="i10"><cite>Collins.</cite></span></p>
+
+
+<p class="firstpar"><span class="smcap">Six</span> years gliding away, have converted the boy of twelve into the
+collegian of eighteen years, the girl of nine into the boarding-school
+Miss of fifteen, and the child of seven into the little maiden of
+thirteen.</p>
+
+<p>Let us give a hasty glance at the most prominent events of these six
+gliding years, and then let the development of character that has gone
+on during the period, be shown by the events which follow.</p>
+
+<p>The young doctor did not forget to speak to his mother of the
+interesting child, whom destiny seemed to have made a <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">proteg&eacute;</span> of his
+own. In consequence, a pressing invitation was sent by Mrs. Hazleton,
+the widowed mother of Arthur, to the young Helen, who, from that time
+became an annual guest at the Parsonage&mdash;such was the name of the home
+of the young doctor. It was about a day&#8217;s ride from Mr. Gleason&#8217;s, and
+situated in one of the loveliest portions of the lovely valley of the
+Connecticut. Helen soon ceased to consider herself a visitor, and to
+look upon the Parsonage as another and dearer home; for though she
+dearly loved her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> father and brother, she found a far lovelier and more
+lovable sister in the sweet, blind Alice, than the heart-repelling
+Mittie.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Thusa, whose feelings towards Mittie had been in a kind of volcanic
+state, since the destruction of her thread, always on the verge of an
+eruption, determined, during the first absence of her favorite Helen to
+resume her itinerant mode of existence; so, sending her wheel in
+advance, the herald cry of &#8220;Miss Thusa&#8217;s coming,&#8221; once more resounded
+through the neighborhood.</p>
+
+<p>Louis entered college at a very early age, leaving a dreary blank in the
+household, which his joyous spirit had filled with sunshine.</p>
+
+<p>It is not strange that under such circumstances the lonely widower
+should think of a successor to his lost wife, for Mittie needed a
+mother&#8217;s restraining influence and guardian care. Nor is it strange,
+with her indomitable self-will, she should resist the authority of a
+stranger. When her father announced his intention of bringing home a
+lady to preside over his establishment, claiming for her all filial
+respect and obedience, she flew into a violent passion, and declared she
+would never own her as a mother, never address her as such&mdash;that she
+would leave home and never return, before she would submit to the
+government of a stranger. Unwilling to expose the woman who had
+consented to be his wife to scenes of strife and unhappiness, Mr.
+Gleason, as the only alternative, resolved to send his daughter to a
+boarding-school, before his mansion received its new mistress. Mittie
+exulted in this arrangement, for a boarding-school was the Ultima Thule
+of her ambition, and she boasted to her classmates that her father was
+afraid of her, and that he dared not marry while she was at home.
+Amiable boast of a child!&mdash;especially a daughter.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Gleason was anxious to recall Helen, and place her at once under her
+new mother&#8217;s guardianship, but Mrs. Hazleton pleaded, and the blind
+Alice pleaded with the mute eloquence of her sightless eyes, and the
+young doctor pleaded; and Helen, after being summoned to welcome her new
+parent, and share in the wedding festivities, was permitted to return to
+her beloved Parsonage.</p>
+
+<p>It was a beautiful spot&mdash;so rural, so retired, so far from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> the public
+road, so removed from noise and dust. It had such a serene, religious
+aspect, the traveler looking up the long avenue of trees, with a
+gradually ascending glance, to the unambitious, gray-walled mansion,
+situated at its termination, thought it must be one of the sweetest
+havens of rest that God ever provided for life&#8217;s weary pilgrim.</p>
+
+<p>And so it was&mdash;and so Helen thought, when wandering with the blind Alice
+through the sequestered fields and wild groves surrounding the dwelling,
+or seated within the low, neat, white-washed walls, and listening to the
+mild, maternal accents of Arthur Hazleton&#8217;s mother.</p>
+
+<p>It was a mild summer evening. The windows were all open, and the smell
+of the roses that peeped in through the casements, made sweeter as well
+as brighter by the dews of night, perfumed the whole apartment.
+Sometimes the rising breeze would scatter a shower of rose-leaves on the
+carpet, casting many a one on the heads of the young girls seated at a
+table, on either side of Mrs. Hazleton. Helen heeded not the petals that
+nestled in the hazel waves of her short, brown hair, but Alice, whose
+touch and hearing were made marvelously acute by her blindness, could
+have counted every rose-leaf that covered her fair, blonde ringlets.</p>
+
+<p>They were both engaged in the same occupation&mdash;knitting purses&mdash;and no
+one could have told by the quick, graceful motions of the fingers of
+Alice, that they moved without one guiding ray from those beautiful blue
+eyes, that seemed to follow all their intricacies. Neither could any one
+have known, by gazing on those beautiful eyes, that the <em>soul</em> did not
+look forth from their azure depths. There was a soft dreaminess floating
+over the opaque orbs, like the dissolving mist of a summer&#8217;s morning,
+that appeared but the cloudiness of thought. Alice was uncommonly
+lovely. Her complexion had a kind of rosy fairness, indicative of the
+pure under-current which, on every sudden emotion, flowed in bright
+waves to her cheeks. This was a family peculiarity, and one which Helen
+remarked in the young doctor the first time she beheld him. Her profuse
+flaxen hair fell shadingly over her brow, and an acute observer might
+have detected her blindness by her suffering the fair locks to remain
+till a breeze swept them aside. They did not <em>veil her vision</em>. Mrs.
+Hazleton, with pardonable maternal vanity, loved to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> dress her beautiful
+blind child in a manner decorating to her loveliness. A simple white
+frock in summer, ornamented with a plain blue ribbon, constituted her
+usual holiday attire. She could select herself the color she best liked,
+by passing her hand over the ribbon, and though her garments and Helen&#8217;s
+were of the same size, she could tell them apart, from the slightest
+touch.</p>
+
+<p>Helen was less exquisitely fair, less beautiful than Alice, but hers was
+an eye of sunbeams and shadows, that gave wonderful expression to her
+whole face. Some one has observed that &#8220;every face is either a history
+or a prophecy.&#8221; Child as Helen was, hers was <em>both</em>. You could read in
+those large, pensive, hazel eyes, a history of past sufferings and
+trials. You could read, too, in their deep, appealing, loving
+expression, a prophecy of all a woman&#8217;s heart is capable of feeling or
+enduring.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I never saw such eyes in the head of a child,&#8221; was a common remark upon
+Helen. &#8220;There is something wildly, hauntingly interesting in them; one
+loves and pities her at the first glance.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Helen was too pale and thin to be a beautiful child, but with such a
+pair of haunting eyes, soft, silky hair of the same hazel hue, hanging
+in short curls just below her ears, and a mouth of rare and winning
+sweetness, she was sure to be remembered when no longer present. She
+looked several years older than Alice, though of the same age, for the
+calm features of the blind child had never known the agitations of
+terror or the vague apprehensions of unknown evil. Every one said &#8220;Helen
+would be pretty,&#8221; and felt that she was interesting.</p>
+
+<p>Now, while knitting her purse, and sliding the silver beads along the
+blue silken thread, she would look up with an eager, listening
+countenance, as if her thoughts were gone forth to meet some one, who
+delayed their coming.</p>
+
+<p>Alice, too, was listening with an expecting, waiting heart&mdash;one could
+tell it by the fluttering of the blue ribbon that encircled her neck.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He will not come to-night, mother,&#8221; said she, with a sigh. &#8220;It is never
+so late as this, when he rides in through the gate.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I fear some accident has happened,&#8221; cried Helen, &#8220;he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> has a very bad
+bridge to cross, and the stream is deep below.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How much that sounds like Helen,&#8221; exclaimed Mrs Hazleton, &#8220;so fearful
+and full of misgivings! I shall not give him up before ten o&#8217;clock. If
+you like, you can both sit up and bear me company&mdash;if not, you may leave
+me to watch alone.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They both eagerly exclaimed that they would far rather sit up with her,
+and then they were sure they could finish their purses, and have them
+ready as gifts for the brother and friend so anxiously looked for.
+Though the distance that separated them from him was short, and his
+visits frequent, they were ever counted as holidays of the heart, as
+eras from which all past events were dated&mdash;and on which all future ones
+were dependent.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;When Arthur was here, we did so and so.&#8221; &#8220;When Arthur comes, we will do
+this and that.&#8221; A stranger would have thought Arthur the angel of the
+Parsonage, and that his coming was the advent of peace, and joy, and
+love. It was ever thus that listening ears and longing eyes and waiting
+hearts watched his approach. He was an only son and brother, and seldom
+indeed is it that Heaven vouchsafes such a blessing to a household, as a
+son and brother like Arthur Hazleton.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s coming,&#8221; cried Alice, jumping up and clapping her hands, &#8220;I hear
+his horse galloping towards the gate. I know the sound of its hoofs from
+all others.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>This was true. The unerring ear of the blind girl never deceived her.
+Arthur was indeed coming. The gate opened. His rapid footstep was heard
+passing through the avenue, bounding up the steps, and there they were
+arrested by the welcoming trio, all ready to greet him. It was a happy
+moment for Arthur when wrapped in that triune embrace, for Helen, timid
+as she was, had learned to look upon him as a dear, elder brother, whose
+cares and affection were divided between her and the sightless Alice;
+and for whom she felt a love equal to that which she cherished for
+Louis, mingled with a reverence and admiration that bordered upon
+worship.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My dear mother,&#8221; said he, when they had escorted him into the
+sitting-room, and in spite of his resistance made him take the best and
+pleasantest seat in the room, &#8220;my dear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> mother, I hope I have not kept
+you up too late; I would have been here sooner, but you know I am a
+servant of the public, and my time is not my own.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh! brother, I am so glad to see you!&#8221; cried Alice, pressing her
+glowing cheek against his hand. It was thus she always said; and she did
+see him with her spirit&#8217;s eyes, beautiful as a son of the morning, and
+radiant as the god of day. She passed her hands softly over his dark,
+brown locks, over the contour of his cheeks and chin with a kind of
+lingering, mesmerizing touch, which seemed to delight in tracing the
+lineaments of symmetry and grace.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Brother,&#8221; she said, &#8220;your cheeks are reddening&mdash;I know it by their
+warmth. What makes the blood come up to the cheeks when the heart is
+glad? Helen&#8217;s are red, too, for I know it by the throbbings of her
+heart.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Helen has one pale cheek and one red one,&#8221; answered Arthur, passing his
+arm around her and drawing her towards him. &#8220;If she were a little
+older,&#8221; added he, bending down and kissing the pale cheek, &#8220;we might
+bring a rose to this, and then they would be blooming twins.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The rose did bloom most beautifully at his touch, and a smile of
+affectionate delight gilded the child&#8217;s pensive lips.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Alice, my dear, what have you and Helen been doing since I was here?
+You are always planning something to surprise me&mdash;something to make me
+glad and grateful.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We have been knitting a purse for you, brother, each of us; and mother
+had just finished sewing on the tassel when you came. Tell me which is
+mine, and which is Helen&#8217;s,&#8221; cried she, taking them both from the table
+and mingling the hues of cerulean and emerald, the glitter of the golden
+globules which ornamented the one, and the silver beads which starred
+the other, in her hand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The green and gold must be Helen&#8217;s&mdash;the silver and blue yours, Alice.
+Am I right?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No. But will you care if it is exactly the reverse. Helen chose the
+blue because it was my favorite color, and she thought you would prize
+it most. Green was left for me, and then, you know, I was obliged to mix
+it with gold.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But why was green left for you? and why were you <em>obliged</em> to mix it
+with gold, instead of silver?&#8221; asked he, interested in tracing the
+origin of her associations.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>&#8220;I like but two colors,&#8221; she replied, thoughtfully; &#8220;blue and green, the
+blue of the heavens, the green of the earth. It seems that gold is like
+sunshine, and the golden beads must resemble sunbeams on the green
+grass. Silver is like moonlight, and Helen&#8217;s purse must make you think
+of moonbeams, shining from the bright blue sky.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, my sweet Alice, where did the poetry of your thoughts come from? I
+know not how such charming associations are born, unless of sight. Oh!
+there must be an inner light, purer and clearer than outward vision
+knows, in which the great source of light bathes the spirit of the
+blind.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He paused a moment, with his eyes intently fixed on the soft, hazy orbs,
+which gave back no answering rays&mdash;then added, in a gayer tone&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And so I am the owner of these beautiful purses. How proud and happy I
+ought to be! It will be long, I fear, before I shall fill them with
+gold&mdash;and even if I could, it would be a shame to soil them with the
+yellow dust of temptation. I will cherish them both. Yours, Alice, will
+always remind me of all that is beautiful on earth, woven of this
+brilliant green and gold. And yours, Helen, blue as the sky, of all that
+is holy in Heaven.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But while I am thus receiving precious gifts,&#8221; he added, &#8220;I must not
+forget that I am the bearer of some also. My saddle-bags are not
+entirely filled with vials and pills. Here, mother, is a bunch of
+thread, sent by Miss Thusa, white as the fleece of the unshorn lamb. She
+says she spun it expressly for you, because of your kindness to Helen.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know by experience the beauty and value of Miss Thusa&#8217;s thread,&#8221; said
+Mrs Hazleton, admiring the beautiful white hanks, which her son
+unrolled; &#8220;ever since I knew Helen I have had a yearly supply, such as
+no other spinster ever made. How shall I make an adequate return?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There is a nicely bound book in our library, mother, which would please
+her beyond expression&mdash;a history of all the celebrated murders in the
+country, within the last ten years. Here, Helen, are some keepsakes for
+you and Alice, from your mother.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How kind, how good,&#8221; exclaimed Helen, &#8220;and how beautiful! A work-box
+for me, and a toilet-case for Alice.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> How nice&mdash;and convenient. Surely
+we ought to love her. Mittie cannot help loving her when she comes. I&#8217;m
+sure she cannot.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your father is going for Mittie soon,&#8221; said Arthur. &#8220;He bids me tell
+you that you must be ready to accompany him, and remain in her stead for
+at least three years.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A cloud obscured the sunshine of Helen&#8217;s countenance. The prospect which
+Mittie had hailed with exultation, Helen looked forward to with dismay.
+To be sent to a distant school, among a community of strangers, was to
+her timid, shrinking spirit, an ordeal of fire. To be separated from
+Alice, Arthur, and Mrs. Hazleton, seemed like the sentence of death to
+her loving, clinging heart.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We must all learn self-reliance, Helen,&#8221; said Arthur, &#8220;we must all pass
+through the discipline of life. The time will soon come when you will
+assume woman&#8217;s duties, and it is well that you go forth awhile to gather
+strength and wisdom, to meet and fulfil them. You need something more
+bracing and invigorating than the atmosphere of love that surrounds you
+here.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Helen always trembled when Arthur looked very grave from the fear that
+he was displeased with her. When speaking earnestly, he had a remarkable
+seriousness of expression, implying that he meant all that he uttered.
+When Arthur Hazleton was first introduced to the reader, he was only
+eighteen; and consequently was now about twenty-four years of age. There
+was a blending of firmness and gentleness, of serene gravity and beaming
+cheerfulness in his character and countenance, which even in early
+boyhood had given him an ascendency over his young companions. There was
+a searching power in the glance of his grave, dark eye, from which one
+might shrink, were it not often softened by an expression of even
+womanly sweetness harmonizing with the gentle smile of his lips. He very
+seldom spoke of his feelings, but the rich, mantling color that ever and
+anon came glowingly to his cheek, indicated a depth of sensibility he
+was unwilling words should reveal. Left his own master at a very early
+age, his <em>will</em> had become strong and invincible. As he almost always
+willed what was right, his mother seldom sought to bend it, and she was
+the only being in the world whose authority he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> acknowledged, and to
+whom he was willing to sacrifice his pride by submission.</p>
+
+<p>An incident which occurred the evening after his arrival, may illustrate
+his firmness and his power.</p>
+
+<p>It was a lovely summer afternoon, and Arthur rambled with Helen and
+Alice amid the charming groves and wild glens of his native place. His
+local attachments were exceedingly strong, for they were cherished by
+dear and sacred associations. There was a history attached to every rock
+and tree and waterfall, making it more beautiful and interesting than
+all others.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Here, Alice,&#8221; he would say, &#8220;look at this magnificent tree. Our father
+used to sit under its shade and sketch the outline of his sermons. Here,
+in God&#8217;s own temple, he worshiped, and his pure thoughts mingled with
+the incense that arose from the bosom of nature.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Then Alice would clasp her fair arms round the tree, and laying her soft
+check against the rough bark, consecrate it to the memory of the father,
+who had died ere she beheld the light. Alas! she never had beheld it;
+but ere the light had beamed on the sightless azure of her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Helen, do you see that beetling rock, half covered with lichens and
+moss, hanging over the brawling stream? It was there I used to recline,
+when a little boy, shaded by that gnarled and fantastic looking tree,
+with book in hand, but studying most of all from the great book of
+nature. Oh! I love that spot. If I ever live to be an old man, though I
+may have wandered to the wide world&#8217;s end, I want to come back and throw
+myself once more on the shelving rock where I made my boyhood&#8217;s bed.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>While he was speaking, he led Alice and Helen on to the very verge of
+the rock, and looked down on the waterfall, tumbling below. Alice stood
+calm and still, holding, with perfect confidence, her brother&#8217;s hand,
+but Helen recoiled and shuddered, and her cheek turned visibly paler.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We are close to the edge, brother&mdash;I know it by the sound of your
+voice,&#8221; said Alice. &#8220;It seems to sink down and mingle with the roar of
+the water-fall.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you not fear, Alice?&#8221; asked her brother, drawing her still a little
+nearer.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, no,&#8221; she answered, with a radiant smile. &#8220;How<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> can I fear, when I
+feel your hand sustaining me? I know, you would not lead me into danger.
+You would never let me fall.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you hear her?&#8221; asked he, looking reproachfully at Helen. &#8220;Oh, thou
+of little faith. When will you learn to confide, with the undoubting
+trust of this helpless blind girl? Do you believe that <em>I</em> would
+willingly expose you to danger or suffering?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He withdrew his hand as he spoke, and Helen believing him seriously
+displeased, turned away to hide the tears that swelled into her eyes. In
+the meantime, Arthur led Alice along the edge of the rock to a little,
+natural bower beyond, which Alice called her bower, and where she and
+Helen had made a bed of moss, and adorned it with shells. Helen stood a
+moment alone on the rock, feeling as desolate as if she were the
+inhabitant of a desert island. She thought Arthur unkind, and the
+beautiful, embowering trees, gurgling waters, and sweet, singing birds,
+lost their charms to her. Slowly turning her steps homeward, yet not
+willing to enter the presence of Mrs. Hazleton without her companions,
+she lingered in the garden, making a bouquet, which she intended to give
+as a peace-offering to Arthur, when he returned. She did not enter the
+house till nearly dark, when she was surprised by seeing Arthur alone.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where is Alice?&#8221; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Alice!&#8221; repeated she, &#8220;I left her in the woods with you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes! but I left her there also, in the arbor of moss, supposing you
+would soon return to her.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Left her alone!&#8221; cried Helen, wondering why Arthur, who seemed to
+idolize his lovely, blind sister, could have been so careless of her
+safety.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Alice is not afraid to be alone, Helen, she knows that God is with her.
+But it will soon be night, and she must not remain in the dark, damp
+woods much longer. You will go back and accompany her home, Helen,
+before the night-dew falls?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Helen&#8217;s heart died within her at the mere thought of threading alone a
+path so densely shaded, and of passing over that beetling rock, beneath
+the gnarled, fantastic looking tree. It would be so dark before she
+returned! She went<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> to the window, and looked out, then turned towards
+him with such a timid, wistful look, it was astonishing how he could
+have resisted the mute appeal.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Make haste, Helen,&#8221; said he, gently, &#8220;it will be dark if you do not.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Will you not go with me?&#8221; she at length summoned boldness to ask.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Are you afraid to go, Helen?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She felt the dark power of his eye to her inmost soul. Death itself
+seemed preferable to his displeasure.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I <em>am</em> afraid,&#8221; she answered, &#8220;but I will go since you <em>will</em> it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I do wish it,&#8221; he replied, &#8220;but I leave it to your own will to
+accomplish it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Helen could not believe that he really intended she should go alone,
+when <em>he</em> had left his sister behind. She was sure he would follow and
+overtake her before she reached the narrow path she so much dreaded to
+traverse. She went on very rapidly, looking back to see if he were not
+behind, listening to hear if her name were not called by his well-known
+voice. But she heard not his footsteps, nor the sound of his voice. She
+heard nothing but the wind sighing through the trees, or the notes of
+some solitary bird, seeking its nest among the branches.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Arthur is not kind, to-day,&#8221; thought she. &#8220;I wonder what has changed
+him so. It was not my place to go after Alice, when he left her himself
+in the woods. What right has he to command me so? And how foolish I am
+to obey him, as if he were my master and lord!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She was at first very angry with Arthur, and anger always gives one
+strength and power. Any excited passion does. She ran on, almost
+forgetting her fears, and the shadows lightened up as she met them face
+to face. Then she thought of Alice alone in the woods&mdash;so blind and
+helpless. Perhaps she would be frightened at the darkening solitude, and
+try to find her path homeward, on the edge of that slippery, beetling
+rock. With no hand to sustain, no eye to guide, how could she help
+falling into the watery chasm below? In her fears for Alice, she forgot
+her own imaginary danger, and flew on, sending her voice before her,
+bearing on its trembling tones the sweet name of Alice.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>She reached the rock, and paused under the tree that hung so darkly over
+it. The waterfall sounded so much louder than when she stood there last,
+she was sure the waters had accumulated, and were threatening to dash
+themselves above. They had an angry, turbulent roar, and keeping close
+in a line with the tree, she hurried on to the silver bower Alice so
+much loved, and which she had seen her enter, clinging to the hand of
+Arthur. Helen, had to lift up the hanging boughs and sweeping vines at
+the entrance of the arbor, and cold shivers of terror ran through her
+frame, for no voice responded to hers, though she had made the silence
+all the way vocal with the name of Alice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If she is not here, she is dead,&#8221; she cried, &#8220;and I will lie down and
+die, too; for I cannot return without her.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Creeping slowly in, with suppressed breath and trembling limbs, she
+discovered something white lying on the bed of moss, so still and white,
+that it might have been mistaken in the dimness for a snow-drift, were
+it not a midsummer eve. All the old superstitions implanted in her
+infant mind by Miss Thusa&#8217;s terrific legends, seized upon her
+imagination. Any thing white and still, reminded her of the
+never-to-be-forgotten moment when she gazed upon her dead mother, and
+sunk overpowered by the terror and majesty of death. If it was Alice
+lying there, she must be dead, and how could she approach nearer and
+encounter that <em>cold presence</em> which had once communicated a death-chill
+to her young life? Then the thought of Alice&#8217;s death was fraught with
+such anguish, it carried her out of herself. The grief of Arthur, the
+agony of his mother; it was too terrible to think of. Springing into the
+arbor, she ran up to the white object, and kneeling down, beheld the
+fair, clustering ringlets and rosy cheek of Alice dimly defined through
+the growing shadows. She inhaled her warm breath as she stooped over
+her, and knew it was sleep, not death, that bound her to the spot. As
+she came in contact with life, warm, breathing vitality, an
+instantaneous conviction of the folly, the preposterousness of her own
+fears, came over her. Alice calmly and quietly had fallen asleep as
+night came on, not knowing it by its darkness, but its stillness. Helen
+felt the presence of invisible angels round the slumbering Alice, and
+her fears melted away. Putting her arms softly round her, and laying
+her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> cheek to hers, she called upon her to wake and return, for the
+woods were getting dark with night.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh! how I love to sleep on this soft, mossy bed,&#8221; cried Alice, sitting
+up and passing her fingers over her eyes. &#8220;I fell asleep on brother&#8217;s
+arm, with the waterfall singing in my ears. Where is he, Helen? I do not
+hear his voice.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He is at home, and sent me after you, Alice,&#8221; replied Helen. &#8220;How could
+he leave you alone?&#8221; she could not help adding.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am never afraid to be left alone,&#8221; said Alice, &#8220;and he knows it. But
+I am not alone. I hear some one breathing in the grotto besides you,
+Helen. I heard it when I first waked.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Helen started and grasped the hand of Alice closer and closer in her
+own. Looking wildly round the grotto, she beheld a dark figure crouching
+in the corner, half-hidden by the shrubbery, and uttering a low scream,
+was about to fly, when a hoarse laugh arrested her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s only me,&#8221; cried a rough, good-natured voice. &#8220;It&#8217;s nobody but old
+Becky. Young master told me to stay and watch Miss Alice, while she
+slept, till somebody came after her. He knew old Becky wouldn&#8217;t let
+anybody harm the child&mdash;not she.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Old Becky, as she called herself, was a poor, harmless, half-witted
+woman, who roamed about the neighborhood, subsisting on charity, whom
+everybody knew and cared for. She was remarkably fond of children, and
+had always shown great attachment for the blind girl. She had the
+fidelity and sagacity of a dog, and would never leave any thing confided
+to her care. She would do any thing in the world for young Master Arthur
+as she styled him, or Mrs. Hazleton, for at the Parsonage she always
+found a welcome, and it seemed to her the gate of Heaven. During the
+life of Mr. Hazleton, she invariably attended public worship, and
+listened to his sermons with the most reverential attention, though she
+understood but a small portion of them&mdash;and when he died, her chief
+lamentation was that he could not preach at her funeral. If young master
+were a minister, that would be next best, but as he was only a doctor,
+she consoled herself by asking him for medicine whenever he visited
+home, whether she needed it or not, and Arthur never failed to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> make up
+a quantity of bread pills and starch powders to gratify poor, harmless
+Becky.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Walk before us, please, Becky,&#8221; cried Helen with a lightened heart, and
+Becky marched on, proud to be of service, looking back every moment to
+see if they were safe.</p>
+
+<p>When they reached home, the candles were burning brightly in the
+sitting-room, and the rose trees at the windows shone with a kind of
+golden lustre in their beams. Helen suffered Becky to accompany Alice
+into the house, knowing it would be to her a source of pride and
+pleasure, and seating herself on the steps, tried to school herself so
+as to appear with composure, and not allow Arthur to perceive how deeply
+his apparent unkindness had wounded her feelings. While she thus sat,
+breathing on the palm of her hand, and pressing it against her moist
+eyelids to absorb the welling tears, Arthur himself crossed the yard and
+came rapidly up the steps.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What are you doing here, my sister?&#8221; said he, sitting down by her and
+drawing away the hand from her showery eyes. Never had he spoken so
+gently, so kindly. Helen could not answer. She only bowed her head upon
+her lap.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My dear Helen,&#8221; said he, in that grave, earnest tone which always had
+the effect of command, &#8220;raise your head and listen to me. I have wounded
+my own feelings that I might give you a needed lesson, and prove to
+yourself that you have moral courage sufficient to triumph over physical
+and mental weakness. You have thought me cruel. Perhaps I have been
+so&mdash;but I have given present pain for your future joy and good. I
+followed you, though you knew it not, ready to ward off every real
+danger from your path. Oh, Helen, I grieve for the sufferings
+constitutional sensitiveness and inculcated fear occasion you, but I
+rejoice when I see you struggling with yourself, and triumphing through
+the strength of an exerted will.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I deserve no credit for going,&#8221; sobbed Helen. &#8220;I could not help it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But no one <em>forced</em> you, Helen.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;When you say I <em>will</em> do any thing, I feel a force acting upon me as
+strong as iron.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is the force of your own inborn sense of right called into action by
+me. You knew it was not right to leave<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> our blind Alice in the dark
+woods alone. If I were cruel enough to desert her, and refuse to seek
+her, her claim on your kindness and care was not the less commanding.
+You could not have laid your head upon your pillow, or commended
+yourself to the guardianship of Providence, thinking of Alice in the
+lonely woods, damp with the dews of night. Besides, you knew in your
+secret heart I could not send you on a dangerous mission. Oh! Helen,
+would that I could inspire you, not so much with implicit confidence in
+me, as in that Mighty guardian power that is ever around and about you,
+from whose presence you cannot flee, and in whose protection you are
+forever safe.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Forgive me,&#8221; cried Helen, in a subdued, humble tone. &#8220;I have done you
+great wrong in thinking you cruel. I wonder you have not given me up
+long ago, when I am so weak and foolish and distrustful. I thought I was
+growing brave and strong&mdash;but the very first trial proved that I am
+still the same, and so it will ever be. Neither the example of Alice,
+nor the counsels of your mother, nor your own efforts, do me any good. I
+shall always be unworthy of your cares.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nay, Helen, you do yourself great injustice. You have shown a heroism
+this very night in which you may glory. Though you have encountered no
+real danger, you battled with an imaginary host, which no man could
+number, and the victory was as honorable to yourself as any that crowns
+the hero&#8217;s brow with laurels. Mark me, Helen, the time will come when
+you will smile at all that now fills you with apprehension, in the
+development of your future, nobler self.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Helen looked up and smiled through her tears.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh! if I dared to promise,&#8221; said she, &#8220;I would pledge my word never to
+distrust you, never to be so foolish and weak again. But I think, I
+believe that I never will.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do not promise, my dear Helen, for you know not your own strength. But,
+remember, that without <em>faith</em> you will grope in darkness through the
+world&mdash;faith in your friends&mdash;faith in your God&mdash;and I will add&mdash;faith
+in yourself. From the time I first saw you a little, terror-stricken
+child, to the present moment, I have sought only your happiness and
+good&mdash;and yet forgetting all the past, you distrusted my mo<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>tives even
+now, and your heart rose up against me. From the first dawn of your
+being to this sweet, star-lighted moment, God has been to you a tender,
+watchful parent, tenderer than any earthly parent, kinder than any
+earthly friend&mdash;and yet you fear to trust yourself to His providence, to
+remain with Him who fills immensity with His presence. You have no faith
+in yourself, though there is a legion of angels, nestling, with folded
+wings in that young heart, ready to fly forth at your bidding, and
+fulfil their celestial mission. Come, Helen,&#8221; added he, rising, and
+lifting her at the same time from her lowly seat, &#8220;let us go in&mdash;but
+tell me first that I am forgiven.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Forgiven!&#8221; cried she, fervently. &#8220;How can I ever thank you, ever be
+sufficiently grateful for your goodness?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By treasuring up my words, and remembering them when you are far away.
+I have influence over you now, because you are so very young, and know
+so little of the world, but a few years hence it will be very different.
+You may think of me then as a severe mentor, a cold, unfeeling sage, and
+wonder at the gentleness with which you bore my reproofs, and the
+docility with which you yielded to my will.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I shall always think of you as the best and truest friend I ever had in
+the world,&#8221; cried Helen, enthusiastically, as they entered the
+sitting-room, where Mrs. Hazleton and Alice awaited them.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Because he sent you out into the woods alone?&#8221; said Mrs. Hazleton,
+smiling, &#8220;young despot that he is.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; replied Helen, &#8220;for I feel so much better, stronger and happier
+for having gone. Then, if possible, I love Alice more than ever.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How do you account for that, Helen?&#8221; asked Arthur.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know,&#8221; she answered, &#8220;unless it is I went through a trial for
+her sake.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Helen is a metaphysician,&#8221; said the young doctor. &#8220;She could not have
+given a better solution.&#8221;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;And can it be those heavenly eyes<br />
+Blue as the blue of starry skies,<br />
+Those eyes so clear, so soft so bright,<br />
+Have never seen God&#8217;s blessed light?&#8221;</p>
+
+
+<p class="firstpar"><span class="smcap">Helen</span> returned to her father&#8217;s, to prepare for her departure to the
+school, which Mittie was about to leave. Arthur had long resolved to
+place Alice in an Institution for the blind, and as there was a
+celebrated one in the same city to which Helen was bound, he requested
+Mr. Gleason to be her guardian on the journey, and suffer her to be the
+companion of Helen. This arrangement filled the two young girls with
+rapture, and reconciled them to the prospect of leaving home, and of
+being cast among strangers in a strange city.</p>
+
+<p>Ever since Alice was old enough to feel the misfortune that rested so
+darkly upon her, and had heard of those glorious institutions, where the
+children of night feel the beams of science and benevolence penetrate
+the closed bars of vision, and receive their illumination in the inner
+temple of the spirit, she had expressed an earnest wish to be sent where
+she could enjoy such advantages.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221; she would repeat a thousand times, unconscious of the pain she
+inflicted on her mother; &#8220;oh! if I could only go where the blind are
+taught every thing, how happy should I be!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It is seldom that the widow of a country minister is left with more than
+the means of subsistence. Mrs. Hazleton was no exception to the general
+rule. But Arthur treasured up every word his blind sister uttered, and
+resolved to appropriate to this sacred purpose the first fruits of his
+profession. It was for this he had anticipated the years of manhood, and
+commenced the practice of medicine, under the auspices of his father&#8217;s
+venerable friend, Doctor Sennar, at an age when most young men are
+preparing themselves for their public<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> career. Success far transcending
+his most sanguine hopes having crowned his youthful exertions, he was
+now enabled to purchase the Parsonage, and present it as a filial
+offering to his mother, and also to defray the expenses of his sister&#8217;s
+education.</p>
+
+<p>Alice had never before visited the home of Helen, and it was an
+interesting sight to see with what watchful care and protecting
+tenderness Helen guided and guarded her steps. Louis, who was at home
+also passing his summer holidays, beheld for the first time the lovely
+blind girl of whom Helen had so often spoken and written.</p>
+
+<p>He was now a man in appearance, of noble stature, and most prepossessing
+countenance. Helen was enthusiastically fond of her brother, and had
+said to Alice, with unconscious repetition&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh! how I wish you could see Louis. He is so handsome and is so good.
+He has such a brave rejoicing look. Somehow or other, I always feel safe
+in his presence.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is he handsomer than Arthur?&#8221; Alice would ask.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, not handsomer&mdash;but then he&#8217;s so different, one cannot compare them.
+Arthur is so much older, you know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Arthur doesn&#8217;t look old, does he?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, not old&mdash;but he has such an air of authority sometimes, which gives
+you such an impression of power, that I would fear him, did he not all
+at once appear so gentle and so kind. Louis makes you love him all the
+time, and you never think of his being displeased.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Still, while Helen dwelt on her brother&#8217;s praise with fond and fluent
+tongue, she felt without being able to describe her feelings, that he
+had lost something of his original beauty. The breath of the world had
+passed over the mind and dimmed its purity. His was the joyous, reckless
+spirit that gave life to the convivial board; and temptations, which a
+colder temperament might have resisted, often held him in ignoble
+vassalage. Now inhaling the hallowed atmosphere of home, all the pure
+influences of his boyhood resumed their empire over his heart&mdash;and he
+wondered that he could ever have mingled with the grosser elements of
+society.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Blind!&#8221; repeated he to himself, while gazing on the calm, angelic
+countenance of Alice, so beautiful in its repose. &#8220;Is it possible that a
+creature so fair and bright, dwells in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> the darkness of perpetual
+midnight? Can no electric ray pierce the cloud that is folded over her
+vision? Is there no power in science to remove the dark fillet that
+binds those celestial eyes, and pour in upon them the light of a
+new-born day?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>While he thus gazed on the unseeing face, so near him that perhaps she
+might have had a vague consciousness of the intensity, the warmth of the
+gaze, Helen approached, and taking the hand of Alice, passed it softly
+over the features of her brother, as well as his profuse and clustering
+hair.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Alice has eyes in her fingers, Louis&mdash;I want her to <em>see</em> you and tell
+me if I have been a true painter.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Louis felt the blood mounting to his temples, as the soft hand of Alice
+analyzed the outline of his face, and lingered in his hair. It seemed to
+him a cherub was fluttering its wings against his cheek, diffusing a
+peace and balminess that no language could describe.</p>
+
+<p>Alice, who had yielded involuntarily to the movement of Helen, drew her
+hand blushingly away.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I cannot imagine how any one can see without touching,&#8221; said Alice,
+&#8220;how they can take in an image into the soul, by looking at it far off.
+You tell me the eyes feel no pleasure when gazing at any thing&mdash;that it
+is the mind only which perceives. But my fingers thrill with delight
+when I touch any thing that pleases, long afterwards.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Louis longed to ask her if she felt the vibration then, but he dared not
+do it. He, in general so reckless in words, experienced a restraining
+influence he had never felt before. She seemed so set apart, so holy, it
+would be sacrilegious to address her with levity. He felt a sudden
+desire to be an oculist, that he might devote himself to the task of
+restoring to her the blessing of sight. Then he thought how delightful
+it would be to lead such a sweet creature through the world, to be eyes
+to her darkness, strength to her helplessness&mdash;the sun of her clouded
+universe. Louis had a natural chivalry about him that invested weakness,
+not only with a peculiar charm, but with a sacred right to his
+protection. With the quick, bounding impulses of eighteen, his spirit
+sprang forward to meet every new attraction. Here was one so novel, so
+pure, that his soul seemed purified from the soil of temptation, while
+he involuntarily surrendered himself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> to it, as Miss Thusa&#8217;s thread grew
+white under the bleaching rays of a vernal sun.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Thusa! yes, Miss Thusa came to welcome home her young <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">proteg&eacute;</span>,
+unchanged even in dress. It is probable she had had several new garments
+since she related to Helen the history of the worm-eaten traveler, but
+they were all of the same gray color, relieved by the black silk
+neckerchief and white tamboured muslin cap&mdash;and under the cap there was
+the same opaque fold of white paper, carefully placed on the top of the
+head.</p>
+
+<p>Alice had a great curiosity to <em>see</em> Miss Thusa, as she expressed it,
+and hear some of her wild legends. When she traced the lineaments, of
+her majestic profile, and her finger suddenly rose on the lofty beak of
+her nose, she laughed outright. Alice did not often laugh aloud, but
+when she did, her laugh was the most joyous, ringing, childish burst of
+silvery music that ever gushed from the fountain of youth. It was
+impossible not to echo it. Helen feared that Miss Thusa would be
+offended, especially as Louis joined merrily in the chorus&mdash;and she
+looked at Alice as if her glance had power to check her. But she did not
+know all the windings of Miss Thusa&#8217;s heart. Any one like Alice, marked
+by the Almighty, by some peculiar misfortune, was an object not only of
+tenderness, but of reverence in her eyes. The blasted tree, the blighted
+flower, the smitten lamb&mdash;all touched by the finger of God, were sacred
+things&mdash;and so were blindness and deafness&mdash;and any personal calamity.
+It was strange, but it was only in the shadows of existence she felt the
+presence of the Deity.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Never mind her laughing,&#8221; said she, in answer to the apprehensive
+glance of Helen, &#8220;it don&#8217;t hurt me. It does me good to hear her. It
+sounds like a singing bird in a cage; and, poor thing, she&#8217;s shut in a
+dark cage for life.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, not for life, Miss Thusa,&#8221; exclaimed Louis; &#8220;I intend to study
+optics till I have mastered the whole length and breadth of the science,
+on purpose to unseal those eyes of blue.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Alice turned round so suddenly, and following the sound of his voice,
+fixed upon him so eagerly those blue eyes, the effect was startling.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Will you do so?&#8221; she cried, &#8220;can you do so? oh! do<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> not say it, unless
+you mean it. But I know it is impossible,&#8221; she added in a subdued tone,
+&#8220;for I was <em>born blind</em>. God made me so, and He has made me very happy
+too. I sometimes think it would be beautiful to see, but it is beautiful
+to feel. As brother says, there is an inner-light which keeps us from
+being <em>all</em> dark.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Louis regretted the impulse which urged him to utter his secret wishes.
+He resolved to be more guarded in future, but he was already in
+imagination a student in Germany, under some celebrated optician, making
+discoveries so amazing that he would undoubtedly give a new name to the
+age in which he lived.</p>
+
+<p>When night came on they gathered round Miss Thusa, entreating her for a
+farewell legend, not a gloomy one, not one which would give Alice a sad,
+dark impression, but something that would come to her memory like a ray
+of light.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You must let me have my own way,&#8221; said she, putting her spectacles on
+the top of her head, and looking around her with remarkable benignity.
+&#8220;If the spirit moves me one way, I cannot go another. But I will try my
+best, for may-be it&#8217;s the last time some of you will ever listen to old
+Thusa&#8217;s tales. She&#8217;s never felt just right since they tangled up her
+heart-strings with that whitened thread. Oh! that was a vile, mean
+trick!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Forget and forgive, Miss Thusa,&#8221; cried Louis; &#8220;I dare say Mittie has
+repented of it in dust and ashes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have forgiven, long ago,&#8221; resumed Miss Thusa, &#8220;but as for
+<em>forgetting</em>, that is out of the question. Ever since then, when the
+bleaching time comes, it keeps me perfectly miserable till it is over.
+I&#8217;ve never had any thread equal to it, for I&#8217;m afraid to let it stay
+long enough to be as powerful white as it used to be. Well, well, let it
+rest. You want me to tell you a story, do you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Thusa had an auditory assembled round her that might have animated
+a spirit less open to inspiration than hers. There was Mr. and Mrs.
+Gleason, the latter a fine, dignified-looking lady, and the young
+doctor, with his countenance of grave sweetness, and Louis, with an
+expression of resolute credulity, and Helen and Alice, with their arms
+interlaced, and the locks of their hair mingling like the tendrils of
+two forest vines. And what perhaps gave a glow to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> her spirit, deeper
+than the presence of all these, Mittie, her arch enemy, was <em>not there</em>,
+to mock her with her deriding black eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve talked to me so much about not telling you any terrible things,&#8221;
+said she, with a troubled look, &#8220;that you&#8217;ve made me like a candle under
+a bushel, instead of a light upon a hill-top. I&#8217;ve never told such
+stories since, as I used to tell when the first Mrs. Gleason was alive,
+and I spun in the nursery all the evening, and little Helen was the only
+one to listen to what I had to say. There was something in the child&#8217;s
+eyes that kept me going, for they grew brighter and larger every word I
+said.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Helen looked up, and met the glance of the young doctor, riveted upon
+her with so much pity and earnestness, she looked down again with a
+blending of gratitude and shame. She well knew that, notwithstanding her
+reason now taught her the folly and madness of her superstitious
+terrors, the impressions of her early childhood were burnt into her
+memory and never could be entirely obliterated.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I remember a story about a blind child, which I heard myself, when a
+little girl,&#8221; said Miss Thusa, &#8220;and if I should live to the age of
+Methuselah, I never should forget it. I don&#8217;t know why it stayed with me
+so long, for it has nothing terrific in it, but it comes to me many a
+time when I&#8217;m not thinking of it, like an old tune, heard long, long
+ago.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Once there was a woman who had an only child, a daughter, whose name
+was Lily. The woman prayed at the birth of the child that it might be
+the most beautiful creature that ever the sun shone upon, and she
+prayed, too, that it might be good, but because she prayed for beauty
+before goodness, it was accounted to her as a sin. The child grew, and
+as long as it was a babe in the arms, they never knew that the eyes,
+which gave so much light to others, took none back again. The mother
+prayed again, that her child might see, no matter how ugly she might
+become, no matter how dull and dim her eyes, let them but have the gift
+of sight. But Lily walked in a cloud, from the cradle to the time when
+the love-locks began to curl round her forehead, and her cheeks would
+flush up when the young men told her she was beautiful. When it was
+sunlight, her mother watched her every step she took, for fear she would
+get into danger, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> she never thought of watching her by night, for
+she said the <em>angels took care of her then</em>. Lily had a little bed of
+her own, right by the window, for she told her mother she loved to feel
+the moon shining on her eye-lids, making a sort of faintish glimmer, as
+it were.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;One night she lay down in the moonshine, and fell asleep, and her
+mother looked upon her for a long time, thinking how beautiful she was,
+and what a pity the young men could not take her to be a wife, she had
+such a loving heart, and seemed made so much for love. At last she fell
+asleep herself, dreaming of Lily, and did not wake till past midnight.
+Her first thought was of Lily, and she leaned on her elbow, and looked
+at the little bed, with its white counterpane, that glittered like snow
+in the moonshine. But Lily was not there, and the window was wide open.
+The woman jumped up in fright, and ran to the window and looked out, but
+she could see nothing but the trees and the woods. I wouldn&#8217;t have been
+in her place for the gold of Solomon, for she was all alone, and there
+was no one living within a mile of her house. It was a wild, lonesome
+place, on a hill-side, and you could hear the roaring of water, all down
+at the bottom of the hill. Even in the day-time it was mighty dangerous
+walking among the torrents, let alone the night.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, the woman lifted up her voice, and wept for her blind child, but
+there was none but God to hear&mdash;and she went out into the night, calling
+after Lily every step she took, but her own voice came back to her, not
+Lily&#8217;s. She went on and on, and when she got to a narrow path, leading
+along to a great waterfall, she stopped to lay her hand on her heart, to
+keep it from jumping out of her body. There was a tall, blasted pine,
+that had fallen over that waterfall, making a sort of slippery bridge to
+pass over. What should she see, right in the middle of the blasted pine
+tree, as it lay over the roaring stream, but Lily, all in white, walking
+as if she had a thousand pair of eyes, instead of none, or at least none
+that did her any good. The mother dared not say a word, any more than if
+she were dumb, so she stood like a dead woman, that is, as still,
+looking at her blind daughter, fluttering like a bird with white wings
+over the black abyss.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But what was her astonishment to behold a figure ap<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>proaching Lily,
+from the opposite side of the stream, all clothed in white, too, with
+long, fair hair, parted from its brow, and large shining wings on its
+shoulders. The face was that of a beautiful youth, and he had eyes as
+soft and glorious as the moon itself, though they looked dark for all
+that.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;I come, my beloved,&#8217; cried Lily, stretching out her arms over the
+water. &#8216;I see thee&mdash;I know thee. There is no darkness now. Oh, how
+beautiful thou art! The beams of thy shining wings touch my eyelids, and
+little silver arrows come darting in, on every side. Take me over this
+narrow bridge, lest my feet slide, and I fall into the roaring water.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;I cannot take thee over the bridge,&#8217; replied the youth, &#8216;but when thou
+hast crossed it, I will bear thee on my wings to a land where there is
+no blindness or darkness, not even a shadow, beautiful as these shadows
+are, all round us now. Walk in faith, and look not below. Press on, and
+fear no evil.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Oh! come back, my daughter!&#8217; shrieked the poor mother, rousing up from
+the trance of fear&mdash;&#8216;come back, my Lily, and leave me not alone. Come
+back, my poor blind child.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Lily turned back a moment, and looked at her mother, who could see her,
+just as plain as day. Such a look! It was just as if a film had fallen
+from off her eyes, and a soul had come into them. They were live eyes,
+and they had been cold and dead before. They smiled with her smiling
+lips. They had never smiled before, and the mother trembled at their
+strange intelligence. She dared not call her back any more, but knelt
+right down on the ground where she was, and held her breath, as one does
+when they think a spirit is passing by.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;I can&#8217;t come back, mother,&#8217; said Lily, just as she reached the bank,
+where the angel was waiting for her, for it was nobody else but an
+angel, as one might know by its wings. &#8216;You will come to me by-and-by&mdash;I
+can see you now, mother. There&#8217;s no more night for me.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then the angel covered her, as it were, with his wings&mdash;or rather, they
+seemed to have one pair of wings between them, and they began to rise
+above the earth, slow at first, and easy, just as you&#8217;ve seen the clouds
+roll up, after a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> shower. Then they went up faster and higher, till they
+didn&#8217;t look bigger than two stars, shining up overhead.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The next day a traveler was passing along the banks of the stream,
+below the great waterfall, and he found the body of the beautiful blind
+girl, lying among the water-lilies there. Her name was Lily, you know.
+She looked as white and sweet as they did, and there never was such a
+smile seen, as there was upon her pale lips. He took her up, and curried
+her to the nearest house, which happened to be her own mother&#8217;s. Then
+the mother knew that Lily had been drowned the night before, and that
+she had seen her going up to Heaven, with the twin angel, created for
+her and with her, at the beginning of creation. She felt happy, for she
+knew Lily was no longer blind.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>If we could give an adequate idea of Miss Thusa&#8217;s manner, so solemn and
+impressive, of the tones of her voice, monotonous and slightly nasal,
+yet full of intensity, and, above all, of the expression of her
+foreboding eye, while in the act of narration, it would be easy to
+account for the effect which she produced. Helen and Alice were bathed
+in tears before the conclusion, and a deepening seriousness rested on
+the countenances of all her auditors.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You <em>will</em> be sad and gloomy, Miss Thusa,&#8221; cried Louis; &#8220;see what you
+have done; you should not have chosen such a subject.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t think it is sad,&#8221; exclaimed Alice, raising her head and shaking
+her ringlets over her eyes to veil her tears. &#8220;I did not weep for
+sorrow, but it is so touching. Oh! I could envy Lily, when the beautiful
+angel came and bore her away on his shining wings.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I think with Alice,&#8221; said the young doctor, &#8220;that it is far from being
+a gloomy tale, and the impression it leaves is salutary. The young girl,
+walking by faith, over the narrow bridge that spans the abyss of death,
+the waiting angel, and upward flight, are glorious emblems of the
+spirit&#8217;s transit and sublime ascent. We are all blind, and wander in
+darkness here, but when we look back, like Lily, on the confines of the
+spirit-land, we shall see with an unclouded vision.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Helen turned to him with a smile that was radiant, beaming through her
+tears. It seemed to her, at that moment, that all her vague terrors, all
+her misgivings for the future,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> her self-distrust and her disquietude
+melted away and vanished into air.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Thusa, pleased with the comment of the young doctor, was trying to
+keep down a rising swell of pride, and look easy and unconcerned, when
+Louis, taking a newspaper from his pocket, began to unfold it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Here is a paper, Miss Thusa,&#8221; said he, handing it to her as he spoke,
+&#8220;which I put aside on purpose for you. It contains an account of a
+celebrated murder, which occupies several columns. It is enough to make
+one&#8217;s hair stand on end, &#8216;like quills upon the fretted porcupine.&#8217; I am
+sure it will lift the paper crown from your head.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Thusa took the paper graciously, though she called him a &#8220;saucy
+boy,&#8221; and adjusting her spectacles on the lofty bridge of her nose, she
+held the paper at an immense distance, and began to read.</p>
+
+<p>At first, they amused themselves observing the excited glance of Miss
+Thusa, moving rapidly from left to right, her head following it with a
+quick, jerking motion; but as the article was long, they lost sight of
+her, in the interest of conversation. All at once, she started up with a
+sudden exclamation, that galvanized Helen, and brought Louis to his
+feet.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What does this mean?&#8221; she cried, pointing with her finger to a
+paragraph in the paper, written in conspicuous characters. &#8220;Read it, for
+I do believe that my glasses are deceiving me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Louis read aloud, in a clear, emphatic voice, the following
+advertisement:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If Lemuel Murrey, or his sister Arathusa, are still living, if he, or
+in case of his death, she will come immediately to the town of &mdash;&mdash;, and
+call at office No. 24, information will be given of great interest and
+importance. Country editors will please insert this paragraph, several
+times, and send us their account.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, Miss Thusa,&#8221; cried Louis, flourishing the paper over his head,
+&#8220;somebody must have left you a fortune. Only hear&mdash;<em>of great
+importance</em>! Let me be the first to congratulate you,&#8221; bowing almost to
+her feet.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nonsense!&#8221; exclaimed Miss Thusa, &#8220;I have not a relation, that I know
+of, this side of the Atlantic, and if I had,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> they would not be worth a
+cent in the world. It must be an imposition,&#8221; and she looked sharply at
+Louis through her lowered glasses.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Upon my honor, Miss Thusa, I know nothing about it,&#8221; asserted Louis. &#8220;I
+never saw it till you pointed it out to me. Whatever it means, it must
+be genuine. Do you not think so, father?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I see no room to imagine any thing like deception here,&#8221; said Mr.
+Gleason, after examining the paper. &#8220;I think you must obey the summons,
+Miss Thusa, and ascertain what blessings Providence may have in store
+for you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; said Miss Thusa, with decision, &#8220;I will go to-morrow. What time
+does the stage start?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Soon after sunrise,&#8221; replied Mr. Gleason. &#8220;But you cannot undertake
+such a long journey alone. You have no experience in traveling in cars
+and steamboats, and, at your age, you will find it very fatiguing. We
+can accompany you as far as New York, but there we must part, for I am
+compelled to return without any delay. Louis, too, is obliged to resume
+his college studies. The young doctor cannot leave his patients. Suppose
+you invest some one with legal authority, Miss Thusa, to investigate the
+matter?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I shall go myself,&#8221; was the unhesitating answer. &#8220;As for going alone, I
+would not thank the King of England, if there was one, for his
+company&mdash;though I am obliged to you for thinking of my comfort. I know
+I&#8217;m getting old, but I should like to see the man, woman or child in
+this town, or any other, that can bear more than I can. I always was
+independent, thank the Lord. After living without the help of man this
+long, I hope I can get along without it at the eleventh hour. As to its
+being a money concern, I don&#8217;t believe a word of it, and I wouldn&#8217;t walk
+across the room, if it just concerned myself alone; but when I see the
+name of my poor, dead brother, I feel a command on me, just as if I saw
+it printed on tablets of stone, by the finger of the Lord Himself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The next morning the travelers were to commence their journey, with the
+unexpected addition of Miss Thusa&#8217;s company part of the way. When her
+baggage was brought down, to the consternation of all she had her wheel,
+arrayed in a traveling costume of green baize, mounted on the top of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>
+her trunk, and no reasoning or persuasion could induce her to leave it
+behind.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not going to let the Goths and Vandals get possession of it,&#8221; she
+said, &#8220;when I&#8217;m gone. I&#8217;ve locked it up every night since the ruin of my
+thread, and&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You can have it locked up while you are absent,&#8221; interrupted Mrs.
+Gleason. &#8220;I will promise you that no injury shall happen to it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thank you,&#8221; said Miss Thusa, nodding her head; &#8220;but where I go my wheel
+must go, too. What in the world shall I do, when I stop at night,
+without it? and in that idle place, the steamboat, I can spin a powerful
+quantity while the rest are doing nothing. It is neither big nor heavy,
+and it can go on the top of the stage very well, and be in nobody&#8217;s
+way.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You can sit there, Miss Thusa, and spin, while you are riding,&#8221; cried
+Louis, laughing; &#8220;that will have a <em>powerful</em> effect.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Helen and Alice felt very sad in parting from the friend and brother so
+much beloved, but they could not help smiling at Louis&#8217;s suggestion. The
+young doctor, glad of an incident which cast a gleam of merriment on
+their tears, added another, which obviated every difficulty:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Only imagine it a new fashioned harp or musical instrument, in its
+green cover, and it will give <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">&eacute;clat</span> to the whole party. I am sure it is
+a harp of industry, on which Miss Thusa has played many a pleasant
+tune.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The wheel certainly had a very distinguished appearance on the top of
+the stage, exciting universal curiosity and admiration. Children rushed
+to the door to look at it, as the wheels went flashing and rolling by,
+while older heads were seen gazing from the windows, till the verdant
+wonder disappeared from their view.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;What a fair lady!&mdash;and beside her<br />
+What a handsome, graceful, noble rider.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Longfellow.</cite></p>
+
+<p class="poem"><span class="i1">&#8220;Love was to her impassioned soul</span><br />
+<span class="i1">Not as with others a mere part</span><br />
+Of its existence&mdash;but the whole,<br />
+<span class="i1">The very life-breath of his heart.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Moore.</cite></span></p>
+
+
+<p class="firstpar"><span class="smcap">We</span> would like to follow Miss Thusa and her wheel, and relate the manner
+in which she defended it from many a rude and insolent attack. The
+Israelites never guarded the Ark of the Covenant with more jealous care
+and undaunted courage.</p>
+
+<p>But as we have commenced the history of our younger favorites in early
+childhood, and are following them up the steep of life, we find they
+have a long journey before them, and we are obliged here and there to
+make a long step, a bold leap, or the pilgrimage would be too long and
+weary.</p>
+
+<p>We acknowledge a preference for Miss Thusa. She is a strong, original
+character, and the sunlight of imagination loves to rest upon its
+salient angles and projecting lines. When we commenced her sketch, our
+sole design was to describe her influence on the minds of others, and to
+make her a warning beacon to the mariners of life, that they might avoid
+the shoals on which the peace of so many morbidly sensitive minds have
+been wrecked. But we found a fascination in the subject which we could
+not resist. A heart naturally warm, defrauded of all natural objects on
+which to expend its living fervor, a mind naturally strong confined
+within close and narrow limits, an energy concentrated and unwasting,
+capable of carrying its possessor through every emergency and every
+trial&mdash;these characteristics of a lonely woman, however poor and
+unconnected she might be, have sometimes drawn us away from attractive
+themes.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>We do not know that Mittie can be called attractive, but she is young,
+handsome and intellectual, and there is a charm in youth, beauty and
+intellect that too often disarms the judgment, and renders it blind to
+moral defects.</p>
+
+<p>When Mittie returned from school, crowned with the laurels of the
+institution in which she had graduated, wearing the stature, and
+exhibiting the manners of a woman, though still in years a child, she
+appeared to her young companions surrounded with a <em>prestige</em>, in whose
+dazzling rays her childish faults were forgotten.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Gleason, who had been looking forward with dread to the hour of her
+step-daughter&#8217;s return, met her with every demonstration of affectionate
+regard. She had never seen Mittie, and as her father always spoke of her
+as &#8220;the child,&#8221; palliating her errors on the plea of her motherless
+childhood, she was not prepared for the splendidly developed, womanly
+girl, who received her kind advances with a haughty and repelling
+coldness, which brought an angry flush to the father&#8217;s brow.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mittie,&#8221; said he, emphatically, &#8220;this is your <em>mother</em>. Remember that
+she is to receive from all my children the respect and affection to
+which she is eminently entitled.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know she is your wife, sir, and that her name is Mrs. Gleason, but
+that does not make her a mother of mine,&#8221; replied the young girl, with
+surprising coolness.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mittie,&#8221; exclaimed the father&mdash;what he would have said was averted by a
+hand laid gently on his arm, and a beseeching look from the eyes of the
+amiable step-mother.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do not constrain her to call me mother,&#8221; she said. &#8220;I do not despair of
+gaining her affections in time. I care not for the mere name,
+unaccompanied by the feelings which make it so dear and holy.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>One would have supposed that a remark like this, uttered in a calm, mild
+tone, a tone of mingled dignity and affability, would have touched a
+heart of only fifteen summer&#8217;s growth, but Mittie knew not yet that she
+had a heart. She had never yet really loved a human being. Insensible to
+the sweet tendernesses of nature, it was reserved for the lightning bolt
+of passion to shiver the hard, bark-like covering, and penetrate to the
+living core.</p>
+
+<p>She triumphed in the thought that in the struggle for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> power between her
+step-mother and herself she had gained the ascendency, that she had
+never yielded one iota of her will, never called her <em>mother</em>, or
+acknowledged her legitimate and sacred claims. She began to despise the
+woman, who was weak enough, as she believed, to be overruled by a young
+girl like herself. But she did not know Mrs. Gleason&mdash;as a scene which
+occurred just one year after her return will show.</p>
+
+<p>Mittie was seated in her own room, where she always remained, save when
+company called expressly to see her. She never assisted her mother
+either in discharging the duties of hospitality or in performing those
+little household offices which fall so gracefully on the young.
+Engrossed with her books and studies, pursuits noble and ennobling in
+themselves, but degraded from their high and holy purpose when
+cultivated to the exclusion of the lovely, feminine virtues, Mittie was
+almost a stranger beneath her father&#8217;s roof.</p>
+
+<p>The chamber in which she was seated bore elegant testimony to the
+kindness and liberality of her step-mother&mdash;who, before Mittie&#8217;s return
+from school, had prepared and furnished this apartment expressly for her
+two young daughters. As Mittie was the eldest, and to be the first
+occupant, her supposed tastes were consulted, and her imagined wants all
+anticipated. Mrs. Gleason had a small fortune of her own, so that she
+was not obliged to draw upon her husband&#8217;s purse when she wished to be
+generous. She had therefore spared no expense in making this room a
+little sanctum-sanctorum, where youth would delight to dwell.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mittie loves books,&#8221; she said, and she selected some choice and elegant
+works to fill the shelves of a swinging library&mdash;of course she must be
+fond of paintings, and the walls were adorned with pictures whose gilded
+frames relieved their soft, neutral tint.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Young girls love white. It is the appropriate livery of innocence.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Therefore bed-curtains, window-curtains, and counterpane were of the
+dazzling whiteness of snow. Even the table and washstand were white,
+ornamented with gilded wreaths.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mittie was fond of writing&mdash;all school girls are,&#8221; therefore an elegant
+writing desk must be ready for her use&mdash;and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> though her love of sewing
+was more doubtful, a beautiful workbox was ready for her accommodation.
+She well knew the character of Mittie, and her personal opposition to
+herself, but she was determined to overcome her prejudices, and bind her
+to her by every endearing obligation.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;His children <em>must</em> love me,&#8221; she said, &#8220;and all that woman can and
+ought to do shall be done by me before I relinquish my labors of love.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mittie enjoyed the gift without being grateful to the giver; she basked
+in the sunshine of comfort, without acknowledging the source from which
+it emanated. For one year she had been treated with unvarying
+tenderness, consideration, and regard, in spite of coldness,
+haughtiness, and occasional insolence, till she began to despise one who
+could lavish so much on a thankless, unreturning receiver.</p>
+
+<p>She was surprised when her step-mother entered her room at the unusual
+hour of bed time&mdash;and looking up from the book she was reading, her
+countenance expressed impatience and curiosity. She did not rise or
+offer her a chair, but after one rude, fixed stare, resumed her reading.
+Mrs. Gleason seated herself with perfect composure, and taking up a book
+herself, seemed to be absorbed in its contents. There was something so
+unusual in her manner that Mittie, in spite of her determination to
+appear imperturbable and careless, could not help gazing upon her with
+increasing astonishment. She was dressed in a loose night wrapper, her
+hair was unbraided, and hanging loose over her shoulders, and there was
+an air of ease and freedom diffused over her person, that added much to
+its attractions. Mittie had always thought her stiff and formal&mdash;now
+there was a graceful abandonment about her, as if she had thrown off
+chains which had galled her, or a burden which oppressed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To what am I indebted for the honor of this visit, madam?&#8221; asked
+Mittie, throwing her book on the table with unlady-like force.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To a desire for a little private conversation,&#8221; replied Mrs. Gleason,
+looking steadfastly in Mittie&#8217;s face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am going to bed,&#8221; said she, with an unsuppressed yawn, &#8220;you had
+better take a more fitting hour.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I shall not detain you long,&#8221; replied her step-mother, &#8220;a few words can
+comprehend all I have to utter. This night<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> is the anniversary of the
+one which brought us under the same roof. I then made a vow to myself
+that for one year I would labor with a bigot&#8217;s zeal and a martyr&#8217;s
+enthusiasm, to earn the love and entitle myself to the good opinion of
+my husband&#8217;s daughter. I made a vow of self-abnegation, which no Hindoo
+devotee ever more religiously kept. I had been told that you were cold
+hearted and selfish; but I said love is invincible and must prevail;
+youth is susceptible and cannot resist the impressions of gratitude. I
+said this, Mittie, one year ago, in faith and hope and self-reliance. I
+have now come to tell you that my vow is fulfilled. I have done all that
+is due to you, nay, more, far more. It remains for me to fulfill my
+duties to myself. If I cannot make you <em>love</em> me, I will not allow you
+to <em>despise</em> me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The bold, bright eye of Mittie actually sunk before the calm, rebuking
+glance, which gave emphasis to every cool, deliberate word. Here was the
+woman she had dared to treat with disdain, as undeserving her respect,
+as the usurper of a place to which she had no right, whom she had
+predetermined to <em>hate</em> because she was her <em>step-mother</em>, and whom she
+continued to dislike because she had predetermined to do so, all at once
+assuming an attitude of commanding self-respect, and asserting her own
+claims with irresistible dignity and truth. Taken completely by
+surprise, her usual fluency of language forsook her, and she sat one
+moment confounded and abashed. <em>Her claims?</em> it was the first time the
+idea of her step-mother having any legitimate claims on her, had assumed
+the appearance of reality. Something glanced into her mind,
+foreshadowing the truth that after all she was more dependent on her
+father&#8217;s wife, than her father&#8217;s wife on her. It was like the flashing
+of lamplight on the picture-frames and golden flower leaves on the
+table, at which they both were seated.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have been alone the whole evening,&#8221; continued Mrs. Gleason, in a
+still calmer, more decided tone, &#8220;preparing myself for this interview;
+for the time for a full understanding is come. All the sacrifices I have
+made during the past year were for your father&#8217;s peace and your own
+good. To him I have never complained, nor ever shall I; but I should
+esteem myself unworthy to be his wife, if I willingly submitted longer
+to the yoke of humiliation. I tell thee truly,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> Mittie, when I say, I
+care not for your love, for which I have so long striven in vain. You do
+not love your own family, and why should I expect to inspire what they,
+father, brother and sister have never kindled in your breast? I care not
+for your love, but I <em>will</em> have your respect. I defy you from this
+moment ever to treat me with insolence. I defy you henceforth, ever by
+word, look or thought, to associate me with the idea of <em>contempt</em>.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Her eye flashed with long suppressed indignation, and her face reddened
+with the liberated stream of her emotions. Rising, and gathering up her
+hair, which was sweeping back from her forehead, she took her lamp and
+turned to depart. Just as she reached the door she turned back and
+added, in a softer tone,</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Though you will never more see me in the aspect of a seeker after
+courtesy and good will, I shall never reject any overtures for
+reconciliation. If the time should ever come, when you feel the need of
+counsel and sympathy, the necessity of a friend; if your heart ever
+awakens, Mittie, and utters the new-born cry of helplessness and pain,
+you will find me ready to listen and relieve. Good night.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She passed from her presence, and Mittie felt as if she had been in a
+dream, so strange and unnatural was the impression left upon her mind.
+She was at first perfectly stunned with amazement, then consciousness,
+accompanied with some very disagreeable stinging sensations, returned.
+When a very calm, self-possessed person allows feeling or passion to
+gain the ascendency over them, they are invested for the moment with
+overmastering power.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have never done justice to her intellect,&#8221; thought she, recalling the
+words of her step-mother, with an involuntary feeling of admiration;
+&#8220;but I want not her love. When it is necessary to my happiness I will
+seek it. Love! she never cared any thing about me; she does not pretend
+that she did. She tried to win my good will from policy, not
+sensibility; and this is the origin of all the comforts and luxuries
+with which she has surrounded me. Why should I be grateful then? Thank
+Heaven! I am no hypocrite; I never dissembled, never professed what I do
+not feel. If every one were as honest and independent as I am, there
+would be very little of this vapid sentimentality, this love-breath,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>
+which comes and goes like a night mist, and leaves nothing behind it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The next morning Mittie could not help feeling some embarrassment when
+she met her step-mother at the breakfast-table, but the lady herself was
+not in the least disconcerted; she was polite and courteous, but calm
+and cold. There was a barrier around her which Mittie felt that she
+could not pass, and she was uncomfortable in the position in which she
+had placed herself.</p>
+
+<p>And thus time went on&mdash;thus the golden opportunities of youth fled.
+Helen was still at school; Louis at college. But when Louis graduated,
+he came home, accompanied by a classmate whose name was Bryant
+Clinton&mdash;and his coming was an event in that quiet neighborhood. When
+Louis announced to his father that he was going to bring with him a
+young friend and fellow collegian, Mr. Gleason was unprepared for the
+reception of the dashing and high bred young gentleman who appeared as
+his guest.</p>
+
+<p>Mittie happened to be standing on the rustic bridge, near the celebrated
+bleaching ground of Miss Thusa, when her brother and his friend arrived.
+She was no lover of nature, and there was nothing in the bland, dewy
+stillness of declining day to woo her abroad amid the glories of a
+summer&#8217;s sunset. But from that springing arch, she could look up the
+high road and see the dust glimmering like particles of gold, telling
+that life had been busy there&mdash;and sometimes, as at the present moment,
+when something unusually magnificent presented itself to the eye, she
+surrendered herself to the pleasure of admiration. There had been heavy,
+dun, rolling clouds all the latter part of the day, and when the sun
+burst forth behind them, he came with the touch of Midas,
+instantaneously transmuting every thing into gold. The trunks of the
+trees were changed to the golden pillars of an antique temple, the
+foliage was all powdered with gold, here and there deepening into a
+bronze, and sweeping round those pillars in folds of gorgeous tapestry.
+The windows of the distant houses were all gleaming like molten gold;
+and every blade of grass was tipped with the same glittering fluid.
+Mittie had never beheld any thing so gloriously beautiful. She stood
+leaning against the light railing, unconscious that she herself was
+bathed in the same golden light&mdash;that it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> quivered in the dark waves of
+her hair, and gilt the roses of her glowing cheek. She did not know how
+bright and resplendent she looked, when two horsemen appeared in the
+high road, gathering around them in quivers the glittering arrows
+darting from the sky. As they rapidly approached, she recognized her
+brother, and knew that the young gentleman who accompanied him must be
+his friend, Bryant Clinton. The steed on which he was mounted was black
+as a raven, and the hair of the young man was long, black, and flowing
+as his horse&#8217;s sable mane. As he came near, reining in the high mettled
+animal, while his locks blew back in the breeze, enriched with the same
+golden lustre with which every thing was shining, Mittie suddenly
+remembered Miss Thusa&#8217;s legend of the black horseman, with the jetty
+hair entwined in the maiden&#8217;s bleeding heart. Strange, that it should
+come back to her so vividly and painfully.</p>
+
+<p>Louis recognized his sister, standing on the airy arch of the bridge, and
+rode directly to the garden gate. Clinton did the same, but instead of
+darting through the gate, as Louis did, he only dismounted, lifted his
+hat gracefully from his head, and bowed with lowly deference&mdash;then
+throwing his arm over the saddle bow, he waited till the greeting was
+over. Mittie was not the favorite sister of Louis, for she had repelled
+him as she had all others by her cold and haughty self-concentration&mdash;but
+though he did not <em>love</em> her as he did Helen, she was his sister, she
+appeared to him the personification of home, of womanhood, and his pride
+was gratified by the full blown flower and splendor of her beauty. She
+had gained much in height since he had last seen her; her hair, which was
+then left waving in the wild freedom of childhood, was now gathered into
+bands, and twisted behind, showing the classic contour of her head and
+neck. Louis had never thought before whether Mittie was handsome or not.
+She had not seemed so to him. He had never spoken of her as such to his
+friend. Helen, sweet Helen, was the burden of his speech, the one lovely
+sister of his heart. The idea of being proud of Mittie never occurred to
+him, but now she flashed upon him like a new revelation, in the glow and
+freshness and power of her just developed womanly charms. He was glad he
+had found her in that picturesque spot, graceful attitude, and partaking
+largely and richly of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> glorification of nature. He was glad that
+Bryant Clinton, the greatest connoisseur in female beauty he had ever
+seen, should meet her for the first time under circumstances of peculiar
+personal advantage. He thought, too, there was more than her wonted
+cordiality in her greeting, and that her cheek grew warm under his
+hearty, brotherly kiss.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, Mittie,&#8221; cried he, &#8220;I hardly knew you, you have grown so handsome
+and stately. I never saw any one so altered in my life&mdash;a perfect Juno.
+I want to introduce my friend to you&mdash;a noble hearted, generous,
+princely spirited fellow. A true Virginian, rather reckless with regard
+to expenditure, perhaps, but extravagance is a kingly fault&mdash;I like it.
+He is a passionate admirer of beauty, too, Mittie, and his manners are
+perfectly irresistible. I shall be proud if he admires you, for I assure
+you his admiration is a compliment of which any maiden may be proud.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>While he was speaking, Clinton followed the beckoning motion of his
+hand, and approached the bridge. It is impossible to describe the ease
+and grace of his motions, or the wild charm imparted to his countenance
+by the long, dark, shining, back-flowing locks, that softened their
+haughty outline. His hair, eye-lashes and eye-brows were of deep, raven
+black, but his eyes were a dark blue, a union singularly striking, and
+productive of wonderful expression. As he came nearer and nearer, and
+Mittie felt those dark blue, black shaded eyes riveted on her face, with
+a look of unmistakable admiration, she remembered the words of her
+brother, and the consciousness of beauty, for the first time, gave her a
+sensation of pride and pleasure. She was too proud to be vain&mdash;and what
+cared she for gifts, destined, like pearls, to be cast before an
+unvaluing herd? The young doctor was the only young man whose admiration
+she had ever thought worthy to secure, and having met from him only cold
+politeness, she had lately felt for him only bitterness and dislike.
+Living as she had done in a kind of cold abstraction, enjoying only the
+pleasures of intellect, in all the sufficiency of self, it was a matter
+of indifference to her what people thought of her. She felt so
+infinitely above them, looking down like the &aelig;ronaut, from a colder,
+more rarefied atmosphere, upon objects lessened to meanness by her own
+elevation.</p>
+
+<p>She could never look down on such a being as Bryant<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> Clinton. Her first
+thought was&mdash;&#8220;Will he dare to look down on me?&#8221; There was so much pride,
+tempered by courtesy, such an air of lofty breeding, softened by grace,
+so much intellectual power and sleeping passion in his face, that she
+felt the contact of a strong, controlling spirit, a will to which her
+own might be constrained to bow.</p>
+
+<p>They walked to the house together, while Louis gave directions about the
+horses, and he entered into conversation at once so easily and
+gracefully, that Mittie threw off the slight embarrassment that
+oppressed her, and answered him in the same light spirited tone. She was
+astonished at herself, for she was usually reserved with strangers, and
+her thoughts seldom effervesced in brilliant sallies or sparkling
+repartees. But Clinton carried about with him the wand of an enchanter,
+and every thing he touched, sparkled and shone with newly awakened or
+reflected brightness. Every one has felt the influence of that
+indescribable fascination of manner which some individuals possess, and
+which has the effect of electricity or magnetism. Something that
+captivates, even against the will, and keeps one enthralled, in spite of
+the struggling of pride, and the shame attendant on submission. One of
+these fascinating, electric, magnetic beings was Clinton. Louis had long
+been one of his captives, but <em>he</em> was such a gay, frank, confiding,
+porous hearted being, it was not strange, but that he should break
+through the triple bars of coldness, haughtiness and reserve, which
+Mittie had built around her, so high no mortal had scaled them&mdash;this was
+more than strange&mdash;it was miraculous.</p>
+
+<p>When Mittie retired that night, instead of preparing for sleep, she sat
+down in the window, and tried to analyze the charm which drew her
+towards this stranger, without any volition of her own. She could not do
+it&mdash;it was intangible, evasive and subtle. The effect of his presence
+was like the sun-burst on the landscape, the moment of his arrival. The
+dark places of her soul seemed suddenly illumined; the massy columns of
+her intellect turned like the tree trunks, into pillars of gold and
+light; gilded foliage, in new born leaflets, played about the branches.
+She looked up into the heavens, and thought they had never bent in such
+grandeur and splendor over her, nor the solemn poetry of night ever
+addressed her in such deep, earnest language. All her senses<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> appeared
+to have acquired an acuteness, an exquisiteness that made them
+susceptible almost to pain. The stars dazzled her like sunbeams, and
+those low, murmuring, monotonous sounds, the muffled beatings of the
+heart of night, rung loudly and distinctly on her ear. Alarmed at the
+strange excitement of her nerves, she rose and looked round the
+apartment which her step-mother&#8217;s hand had adorned, and <em>ingratitude</em>
+seemed written in large, dark characters on the soft, grayish colored
+walls. Why had she never seen this writing before? Why had the debt she
+owed this long suffering and now alienated benefactress, never before
+been acknowledged before the tribunal of conscience? Because her heart
+was awakening out of a life-long sleep, and the light of a new creation
+was beaming around her.</p>
+
+<p>She took the lamp, and placing it in front of the mirror, gazed
+deliberately on her person.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Am I handsome?&#8221; she mentally asked, taking out her comb, whose pressure
+seemed intolerable, and suffering the dark redundance of her hair to
+flow, unrestrained, around her. &#8220;Louis says that I am, and methinks this
+mirror reflects a glorious image. Surely I am changed, or I have never
+really looked on myself before.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Yes! she was changed. The light within the cold, alabaster vase was
+kindled, giving a life and a glow to what was before merely symmetrical
+and classic. There was a color coming and going in her cheek, a warm
+lustre coming and going in her eye, and she could not tell whence it
+came, nor whither it went.</p>
+
+<p>From this evening a new era in her life commenced.</p>
+
+<p>Days and weeks glided by, and Clinton still remained the guest of Louis.
+He sometimes spoke of going home, but Louis said&mdash;&#8220;not yet&#8221;&mdash;and the
+sudden paleness of Mittie&#8217;s cheek spoke volumes. During all this time,
+they had walked, and rode, and talked together, and the enchantment had
+become stronger and more pervading Mr. Gleason sometimes thought he
+ought not to allow so close an intimacy between his daughter and a young
+man of whose private character he knew so little, but when he reflected
+how soon he was to depart to his distant home, probably never to return,
+there seemed little danger to be apprehended from his short sojourn with
+them. Then Mittie, though she might be susceptible of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> admiration for
+his splendid qualities, and though her vanity might be gratified by his
+apparent devotion&mdash;<em>Mittie had no heart</em>. If it were Helen, it would be
+a very different thing, but Mittie was incapable of love, uninflammable
+as asbestos, and cold as marble.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Gleason, with the quicker perception of woman, penetrated deeper
+than her husband, and saw that passions were aroused in that hitherto
+insensible heart which, if opposed, might be terrible in their power.
+Since her conversation with Mittie, where she yielded up all attempt at
+maternal influence, and like &#8220;Ephraim joined to idols, <em>let her alone</em>,&#8221;
+she had never uttered a word of counsel or rebuke. She had been coldly,
+distantly courteous, and as she had prophesied, met with at least the
+semblance of respect. It was more than the semblance, it was the
+reality. Mittie disdained dissimulation, and from the moment her
+step-mother asserted her own dignity, she felt it. Mrs Gleason would
+have lifted up her warning voice, but she knew it would be disregarded,
+and moreover, she had pledged herself to neutrality, unless admonition
+or counsel were asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let us go in and see Miss Thusa,&#8221; said Louis, as they were returning
+one evening from a long walk in the woods. &#8220;I must show Clinton all the
+lions in the neighborhood, and Miss Thusa is the queen of the
+menagerie.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is too late, brother,&#8221; cried Mittie, well knowing that she was no
+favorite of Miss Thusa, who might recall some of the incidents of her
+childhood, which she now wished buried in oblivion.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Just the hour to make a fashionable call,&#8221; said Clinton. &#8220;I should like
+to see this belle of the wild woods.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh! she is very old and very ugly,&#8221; exclaimed Mittie, &#8220;and I assure
+you, will give you a very uncourteous reception.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Youth and beauty and courtesy will only appear more lovely by force of
+contrast,&#8221; said Clinton, offering her his hand to assist her over the
+stile, with a glance of irresistible persuasion.</p>
+
+<p>Mittie was constrained to yield, but an anxious flush rose to her cheek
+for the result of this dreaded interview. She had not visited Miss Thusa
+since her return from school, for she had no pleasing associations
+connected with her to draw her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> to her presence. Since her memorable
+journey with her wheel, Miss Thusa had taken possession of her former
+abode, and no entreaties could induce her to resume her wandering life.
+She never revealed the mystery of the advertisement, or the result of
+her journey, but a female Ixion, bound to the wheel, spun away her
+solitary hours, and nursed her own peculiar, solemn traits of character.</p>
+
+<p>The house looked very much like a hermitage, with its low, slanting,
+wigwam roof, and dark stone walls, planted in the midst of underbrush,
+through which no visible path was seen. There was no gate, but a stile,
+made of massy logs, piled in the form of steps, which were beautifully
+carpeted with moss. A well, whose long sweep was also wreathed with
+moss, was just visible above the long, rank grass, with its old oaken
+bucket swinging in the air.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What a superb old hermitage!&#8221; exclaimed Clinton, as they approached the
+door. &#8220;I feel perfectly sublime already. If the lion queen is worthy of
+her lair, I would make a pilgrimage to visit her.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now, pray, brother,&#8221; said Mittie, determined to make as short a stay as
+possible, &#8220;don&#8217;t ask her to tell any of her horrible stories. I am
+sure,&#8221; she added, turning to Clinton, &#8220;you would find them exceedingly
+wearisome.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They are the most interesting things in the world,&#8221; said Louis, with
+provoking enthusiasm, as opening the door, he bowed his sister in&mdash;then
+taking Clinton&#8217;s arm, ushered him into the presence of the stately
+spinster.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Thusa did not rise, but suffering her foot to pause on the treadle,
+she pushed her spectacles to the top of her head, and looked round upon
+her unexpected visitors. Mittie, who felt that the dark shaded eye of
+Clinton was upon her, accosted her with unwonted politeness, but it was
+evident the stern hostess returned her greeting with coldness and
+repulsion. Her features relaxed, when Louis, cordially grasping her
+hand, expressed his delight at seeing her looking so like the Miss Thusa
+of his early boyhood. Perceiving the aristocratic stranger, she
+acknowledged his graceful, respectful bow, by rising, and her tall
+figure towered like a column of gray marble in the centre of the low
+apartment.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And who is Mr. Bryant Clinton?&#8221; said she, scanning him with her eye of
+prophecy, &#8220;that he should visit the cabin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> of a poor, old, lonely woman
+like me? I didn&#8217;t expect such an honor. But I suppose he came for the
+sake of the company he brought&mdash;not what he could find here.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We brought him, Miss Thusa,&#8221; said Louis; &#8220;we want him to become
+acquainted with all our friends, and you know we would not forget you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We!&#8221; repeated Miss Thusa, looking sternly at Mittie, &#8220;don&#8217;t say <em>we</em>.
+It is the first time Mittie ever set foot in my poor cabin, and I know
+she didn&#8217;t come now of her own good will. But never mind&mdash;sit down,&#8221;
+added she, drawing forward a wooden settee, equivalent to three or four
+chairs, and giving it a sweep with her handkerchief. &#8220;It is not often I
+have such fine company as this to accommodate.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Or you would have a velvet sofa for us to sit down upon,&#8221; cried Louis,
+laughing, while he occupied with the others the wooden seat; &#8220;but I like
+this better, with its lofty back and broad, substantial frame. Every
+thing around you is in keeping, Miss Thusa, and looks antique and
+majestic; the walls of gray stone, the old, moss-covered well-sweep, the
+dear old wheel, your gray colored dress, always the same, yet always
+looking nice and new. I declare, Miss Thusa, I am tempted to turn hermit
+myself, and come and live with you, if you would let me. I am beginning
+to be tired of the world.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He laughed gayly, but a shade passed over his countenance, darkening its
+sunshine.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And I am just beginning to be awake to its charms,&#8221; said Clinton, &#8220;just
+beginning to <em>live</em>. I would not now forsake the world; but if
+disappointment and sorrow be my lot, I must plead with Miss Thusa to
+receive me into her hermitage, and teach me her admirable philosophy.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Though he addressed Miss Thusa, his glances played lambently on Mittie&#8217;s
+face, and told her the meaning of his words.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Pshaw!&#8221; exclaimed Miss Thusa, &#8220;don&#8217;t try to make a fool of me, young
+gentleman. Louis, Master Louis, Mr. Gleason&mdash;what shall I call you now,
+since you&#8217;re grown so tall, and seem so much farther off than you used
+to be.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Call me Louis&mdash;nothing but Louis. I cannot bear the thought of being
+<em>Mistered</em>, and put off at a distance. Oh, there is nothing so sweet as
+the name a mother&#8217;s angel lips first breathed into our ears.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>&#8220;I&#8217;m glad you have not forgotten your mother, Louis,&#8221; said Miss Thusa,
+her countenance softening into an expression of profound sensibility;
+&#8220;she was a woman to be remembered for a life-time; though weak in body,
+she was a powerful woman for all that. When she died, I lost the best
+friend I ever had in the world, and I shall love you and Helen as long
+as I live, for her sake, as well as your own. I won&#8217;t be unjust to
+anybody. <em>You&#8217;ve</em> always been a good, respectful boy; and as for Helen,
+Heaven bless the child! she wasn&#8217;t made for this world nor anybody in
+it. I never see a young flower, or a tender green leaf, but I think of
+her, and when they fade away, or are bitten and shrivelled by the frost,
+I think of her, too, and it makes me melancholy. When is the dear child
+coming home?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Before the conclusion of this speech, Mittie had risen and turned her
+burning cheek towards the window. She felt as if a curse were resting
+upon her, to be thus excluded from all participation in Miss Thusa&#8217;s
+blessing, in the presence of Bryant Clinton. Yes, at that moment she
+felt the value of Miss Thusa&#8217;s good opinion&mdash;the despised and contemned
+Miss Thusa. The praises of Helen sounded as so many horrible discords in
+her ears, and when she heard Louis reply that &#8220;Helen would return soon,
+very soon, with that divine little blind Alice,&#8221; she wished that years
+on years might intervene before that period arrived, for might she not
+supplant her in the heart of Clinton, as she had in every other?</p>
+
+<p>While she thus stood, playing with a hop-vine that climbed a tall pole
+by the window, and shaded it with its healthy, luxuriant leaves, Clinton
+manifested the greatest interest in Miss Thusa&#8217;s wheel, and the
+manufacture of her thread. He praised the beauty of its texture, the
+fineness and evenness of its fibres.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I admire this wheel,&#8221; said he, &#8220;it has such a venerable, antique
+appearance. Its massy frame and brazen hoops, its grooves and swelling
+lines are a real study for the architect.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, I never saw those brazen rings before,&#8221; exclaimed Louis, starting
+up and joining Clinton, in his study of the instrument. &#8220;When did you
+have them put on, Miss Thusa, and what is their use?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I had them made when I took that long journey,&#8221; re<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>plied Miss Thusa,
+pushing back the wheel with an air of vexation. &#8220;It got battered and
+bruised, and needed something to strengthen it. Those saucy stage
+drivers made nothing of tossing it from the top of the stage right on
+the pavement, but the same man never dared to do it but once.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This must be made of lignum-vit&aelig;,&#8221; said Clinton, &#8220;it is so very heavy.
+Such must have been the instrument that Hercules used, when he bowed his
+giant strength to the distaff, to gratify a beautiful woman&#8217;s whim.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I can&#8217;t see what there is in an old wheel to attract a young
+gentleman like you, so!&#8221; exclaimed Miss Thusa, interposing her tall
+figure between it and the collegian. &#8220;I don&#8217;t want Hercules, or any sort
+of man, to spin at my distaff, I can tell you. It&#8217;s woman&#8217;s work, and
+it&#8217;s a shame for a man to interfere with it. No, no! it is better for
+you to ride about the country with your black horse and gold-colored
+fringes, turning the heads of silly girls and gaping children, than to
+meddle with an old woman and her wheel.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, Miss Thusa, what makes you so angry?&#8221; cried Louis, astonished at
+the excitement of her manner. &#8220;I never knew you impolite before.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I apologise for my own rudeness,&#8221; said Clinton, with inexpressible
+grace and ease. &#8220;I was really interested in the subject, and forgot that
+I might be intrusive. I respect every lady&#8217;s rights too much to infringe
+upon them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t mean to be rude,&#8221; replied Miss Thusa, giving her glasses a
+downward jerk, &#8220;but I&#8217;ve lived so much by myself, that I don&#8217;t know any
+thing about the soft, palavering ways of the world. I say again, I don&#8217;t
+want to be rude, and I&#8217;m not ashamed to ask pardon if I am so; but I
+know this fine young gentleman cares no more for me, nor my wheel, than
+the man in the moon, and I don&#8217;t like to have any one try to pass off
+the show for the reality.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She fixed her large, gray eye so steadfastly on Clinton, that his cheek
+flushed with the hue of resentful sensibility, and Louis thinking Miss
+Thusa in a singularly repulsive mood, thought it better to depart.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If it were not so late,&#8221; said he, approaching the door, &#8220;I would ask
+you for one of your interesting legends, Miss Thusa, but by the long
+shadow of the well-sweep on the grass, the sun must be almost down. Why
+do you never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> come to see us now? My mother would give you a cordial
+welcome.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s right. I love to hear you call her mother, Louis. She is worthy
+of the name. She is a lady, a noble hearted lady, that honored the
+family by coming into it; and they who wouldn&#8217;t own her, disgrace
+themselves, not her. Go among the poor, <em>if</em> you want to know her worth.
+Hear <em>them</em> talk&mdash;but as for my stories, I never can tell them, if there
+is a scoffing tongue, and an unbelieving ear close by. I cannot feel my
+<em>gift</em>. I cannot glorify the Lord who gave it. When Helen comes, bring
+her to me, for I&#8217;ve something to tell her that I mustn&#8217;t carry to my
+grave. The blind child, too, I should like to see her again. I would
+give one of my eyes now, to put sight into hers&mdash;both of them, I might
+say, for I shan&#8217;t use them much longer.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, Miss Thusa, you are a <em>powerful</em> woman yet,&#8221; said Louis, measuring
+her erect and commanding figure, with an upward glance. &#8220;I shouldn&#8217;t
+wonder if you lived to preside at all our funerals. I don&#8217;t think you
+ever can grow weak and infirm.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Thusa shook her head, and slipped up the sleeve of her left arm,
+showing the shrunken flesh and shrivelled skin.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s weakness and infirmity coming on,&#8221; said she, &#8220;but I don&#8217;t mind
+it. This world isn&#8217;t such a paradise, at the best, that one would want
+to stay in it forever. And there&#8217;s one comfort, I shall leave nobody
+behind to bewail me when I&#8217;m gone.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah! Miss Thusa, how unjust you are. <em>I</em> shall bewail you; and, as for
+Helen, I do believe the sweet, tender-hearted soul would cry her eyes
+out. Even the lovely, blind Alice would weep for your loss. And
+Mittie&mdash;but it seems to me you are not quite kind to Mittie. I should
+think you had too much magnanimity to remember the idle pranks of
+childhood against any one. Why, see what a handsome, glorious looking
+girl she is now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mittie turned haughtily away, and stepped out on the mossy door-stone.
+All her early scorn and hatred of Miss Thusa revived with even added
+force. Clinton followed her, but lingered on the threshold for Louis,
+whose hand the ancient sibyl grasped with a cordial farewell pressure.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span>&#8220;Mittie and I never were friends, and never can be,&#8221; said she, &#8220;but I
+wish her no harm. I wish her better luck than I think is in her path
+now. As for yourself, if you should get into trouble, and not want to
+vex those that are kin, you can come to me, and if you don&#8217;t despise my
+counsel and assistance, perhaps it may do you good. I have a legend that
+I&#8217;ve been storing up for your ears, too, and one of these days I should
+like to tell it to you. But,&#8221; lowering her voice to a whisper, &#8220;leave
+that long-haired, smooth-tongued gentleman behind.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Was I not right,&#8221; said Mittie, when they had passed the stile, and
+could no longer discern the ancestral figure of Miss Thusa in the door
+of her lonely dwelling, &#8220;in saying that she is a very rude, disagreeable
+person? She is so vindictive, too. She never could forgive me, because
+when a little child I cared not to listen to her terrible tales of
+ghosts and monsters. Helen believed every word she uttered, till she
+became the most superstitious, fearful creature in the world.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You should add, the sweetest, dearest, best,&#8221; interrupted Louis,
+&#8220;unless we except the angelic blind maiden.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I should think if you had any affection for me, Louis,&#8221; said Mittie,
+turning pale, as his praises of Helen fell on Clinton&#8217;s ear, &#8220;you would
+resent the rudeness and impertinence to which you have just exposed me.
+What must your friend think of me? Was it to lower me in his opinion
+that you carried him to her hovel, and drew forth her spiteful and
+bitter remarks?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you think it possible that <em>she</em> could alter my opinion of <em>you</em>?&#8221;
+said Clinton, in a low, earnest tone. &#8220;If any thing could have exalted
+it, it would be the dignity and forbearance with which you bore her
+insinuations, and defeated her malice.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am sorry, Mittie,&#8221; cried Louis, touched by her paleness and emotion,
+and attributing it entirely to wounded feeling, &#8220;I am very sorry that I
+have been the indirect cause of giving you pain. It was certainly
+unintentional. Miss Thusa was in rather a savage mood this evening, I
+must acknowledge; but she is not malicious, Clinton. With all her
+eccentricities, she has some sterling virtues. If you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> could only see
+her inspired, and hear one of her <em>powerful</em> tales!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If you ever induce him to go there a second time!&#8221; exclaimed Mittie,
+withdrawing herself from the arm with which he had encircled her waist,
+and giving him a glance from her dark, bright eyes, that might have
+scorched him, it was so intensely, dazzlingly angry.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Believe me,&#8221; said Clinton, &#8220;no inducement could tempt me again to a
+place associated with painful remembrances in your mind.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He had not seen the glance, for he was walking on the other side, and
+when she turned towards him, in answer to his soothing remark, the
+starry moon of night is not more darkly beautiful or resplendent than
+her face.</p>
+
+<p>So he told her when Louis left them at the gate leading to their
+dwelling, and so he told her again when they were walking alone together
+in the star-bright night.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why do they talk to me of Helen?&#8221; said he, and his voice stole through
+the stilly air as gently as the falling dew. &#8220;What can she be, in
+comparison with you? Little did I think Louis had another sister so
+transcendent, when I saw you standing on the rustic bridge, the most
+radiant vision that ever beamed on the eye of mortal. You remember that
+evening. All the sunbeams of Heaven gathered around <em>you</em>, the focus of
+the golden firmament.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Louis loves me not as he does Helen,&#8221; replied Mittie, her heart
+bounding with rapture at his glowing praises, &#8220;no one does. Even you,
+who now profess to love me beyond all created beings, if Helen came,
+might be lured by <em>her</em> attractions to forget all you have been
+breathing into my ears.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I confess I should like to see one whose attractions <em>you</em> can fear.
+She must be superlatively lovely.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She is not beautiful nor lovely, Clinton. No one ever called her so.
+Fear! I never knew the sensation of fear. It is not fear that she could
+inspire, but a stronger, deeper passion.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He felt the arm tremble that was closely locked in his, and he could see
+her lip curl like a rose-leaf fluttering in the breeze.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Speak, Mittie, and tell me what you mean. I can think<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> of but one
+passion now, and that the strongest and deepest that ever ruled the
+heart of man.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I cannot describe my meaning,&#8221; replied Mittie, pausing under a tree
+that shaded their path, and leaning against its trunk; &#8220;but I can feel
+it. Till you came, I knew not what feeling was; I read of it in books.
+It was the theme of many a fluent tongue, but all was cold and passive
+<em>here</em>,&#8221; said she, pressing her hand on the throbbing heart that now
+ached with the intensity of its emotion. &#8220;Everybody said I had no heart,
+and I believed them. You first taught me that there was a vital spark
+burning within it, and blew upon it with a breath of flame. I tell you,
+Clinton, you had better tamper with the lightning&#8217;s chain than the
+passions of this suddenly awakened heart. I tell you I am a dangerous
+being. There is a power within me that makes me tremble with its
+consciousness. I am a young girl, with no experience. I know nothing of
+the blandishments of art, and if I did I would scorn to exercise them.
+You have told me a thousand times that you loved me and I have believed
+you. I would willingly die a thousand times for the rapture of hearing
+it once; but if I thought the being lived who could supplant me&mdash;if I
+thought you could ever prove false to me&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Her eye flashed and her cheek glowed in the night-beams that, as Clinton
+said, made her their focus, so brightly were they reflected from her
+face. What Clinton said, it is unnecessary to repeat, for the language
+of passion is commonplace, unless it flows from lips as fresh and
+unworldly and impulsive as Mittie&#8217;s.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let me put a mark on this tree,&#8221; she said, stooping down and picking up
+a sharp fragment of rock at its base. &#8220;If you ever forget what you have
+said to me this night, I will lead you to this spot, and show you the
+wounded bark&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She began to carve her own initials, but he insisted upon substituting
+his penknife and assisting her in the task, to which she consented. As
+they stood side by side, he guiding her hand, and his long, soft locks
+playing against her cheek, or mingling with her own, she surrendered
+herself to a feeling of unalloyed happiness, when all at once Miss
+Thusa&#8217;s legend of the Black Knight, with the dark, far-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>flowing hair,
+and the maiden with the bleeding heart, came to her remembrance, and she
+involuntarily shuddered.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why am I ever recalling that wild legend?&#8221; thought she. &#8220;I am getting
+to be as weak and superstitious as Helen. Why, when it seems to me that
+the wing of an angel is fluttering against my cheek, should I remember
+that demon-sprite?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Underneath her initials he carved his own, in larger, bolder characters.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Would you believe it,&#8221; said she, in a light mocking tone, &#8220;that I felt
+every stroke of your knife on that bark? Oh, you do not know how deep
+you cut! It seems that my life is infused into that tree, and that it is
+henceforth a part of myself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Strange, romantic girl that you are! Supposing the lightning should
+strike it, think you that you would feel the shaft?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, if it shattered the tablet that bears those united names. But the
+lightning does not often make a channel in the surface of the silver
+barked beech. There are loftier trees around. The stately oak and
+branching elm will be more likely to win the fiery crown of electricity
+than this.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mittie clasped her arms around the tree, and laid her cheek against the
+ciphers. The next moment she flitted away, ashamed of her enthusiasm, to
+hide her blushes and agitation in the solitude of her own chamber.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning she found a wreath of roses round the tablet, and the
+next, and the next. So day after day the passion of her heart was fed by
+love-gifts offered at that shrine, where, by the silver starlight, they
+had met, and <span class="smcap">ONE</span> at least had worshiped.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="PART_THIRD" id="PART_THIRD"></a>PART THIRD.</h2>
+
+
+<h2 class="sectionhead">CHAPTER VIII.</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">&mdash;&mdash;A countenance in which did meet<br />
+Sweet records,&mdash;promises as sweet&mdash;<br />
+A creature not too bright or good<br />
+For human nature&#8217;s daily food;<br />
+For transient sorrows, simple wiles,<br />
+Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears and smiles.<br />
+<span class="i10"><cite>Wordsworth.</cite></span></p>
+
+
+<p class="firstpar"><span class="smcap">And</span> now we have arrived at the era, to which we have looked forward with
+eager anticipation, the return of Helen and Alice, the period when the
+severed links of the household chain were again united, when the folded
+bud of childhood began to unclose its spotless leaves, and expand in the
+solar rays of love and passion.</p>
+
+<p>We have said but little lately of the young doctor, not that we have
+forgotten him, but he had so little fellowship with the characters of
+our last chapter, that we forbore to introduce him in the same group. He
+did feel a strong interest in Louis, but the young collegian was so
+fascinated by his new friend, that he unconsciously slighted him whom he
+had once looked upon as a mentor and an elder brother. Mittie, the
+handsome, brilliant, haughty, but now impassioned girl, was as little to
+his taste as Mittie, the cold, selfish and repulsive child. Clinton, the
+accomplished courtier, the dashing equestrian, the graceful
+spendthrift&mdash;the apparently resistless Clinton had no attraction for
+him. He sometimes wondered if his little, simple-hearted pupil Helen
+would be carried away by the same magnetic influence, and longed to see
+her character exposed to a test so powerful and dangerous.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Gleason went for the children, as he continued to call<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> them, and
+when the time for his arrival drew near, there was more than the usual
+excitement on such occasions. Mittie could never think of her sister&#8217;s
+coming without a fluctuating cheek and a throbbing heart. Mrs. Gleason
+wondered at this sensibility, unknowing its latent source, and rejoiced
+that all her affections seemed blooming in the fervid atmosphere that
+now surrounded her. Perhaps even she might yet be loved. But it was to
+Helen the heart of the step-mother went forth, whom she remembered as so
+gentle, so timid, so grateful and endearing. Would she return the same
+sweet child of nature, unspoiled by contact with other grosser elements?</p>
+
+<p>Clinton felt an eager curiosity to see the sister of Mittie, for whom
+she cherished such precocious jealousy, yet who, according to her own
+description, was neither beautiful nor lovely. Louis was all impatience,
+not only to see his favorite Helen, but the lovely blind girl, who had
+made such an impression on his young imagination. It is true her image
+had faded in the sultry, worldly atmosphere to which he had been
+exposed; but as he thought of the blue, sightless orbs, so beautiful yet
+soulless, the desire to loosen the fillet of darkness which the hand of
+God had bound around her brow, and to pour upon her awakening vision the
+noontide glories of creation, rekindled in his bosom.</p>
+
+<p>For many days Mrs. Gleason had filled the vases with fresh flowers, for
+she remembered how Helen delighted in their beauty, and Alice in their
+fragrance. There was a room prepared for Helen and Alice, while the
+latter remained her guest, and Mittie resolved that if possible, she
+would exclude her permanently from the chamber which Mrs. Gleason had so
+carefully furnished for both. She could not bear the idea of such close
+companionship with any one. She wanted to indulge in solitude her wild,
+passionate dreams, her secret, deep, incommunicable thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>At length the travelers arrived; weary, dusty and exhausted from
+sleepless nights, and hurried, rapid days. No magnificent sun-burst
+glorified their coming. It was a dull, grayish, dingy day, such as often
+comes, the herald of approaching autumn. Mittie could not help
+rejoicing, for she knew the power of first impressions. She knew it by
+the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> raptures which Clinton always expressed when he alluded to her
+first appearance on the rustic bridge, as the youthful goddess of the
+blooming season. She knew it by her own experience, when she first
+beheld Clinton in all the witchery of his noble horsemanship.</p>
+
+<p>Helen was unfortunately made very sick by traveling, <em>sea-sick</em>, and
+when she reached home she was exactly in that state of passive endurance
+which would have caused her to lie under the carriage wheels
+unresistingly had she been placed perchance in that position. The
+weather was close and sultry, and the dust gathered on the folds of her
+riding-dross added to the warmth and discomfort of her appearance. Her
+father carried her in his arms into the house, her head reclining
+languidly on his shoulder, her cheeks white as her muslin collar. Mittie
+caught a glimpse of Clinton&#8217;s countenance as he stood in the
+back-ground, and read with exultation an expression of blank
+disappointment. After gazing fixedly at Helen, he turned towards Mittie,
+and his glance said as plainly as words could speak&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You beautiful and radiant creature, can you fear the influence of such
+a little, spiritless, sickly dowdy as this?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Relieved of the most intolerable apprehensions, her greeting of Helen
+was affectionate beyond the most sanguine hopes of the latter. She took
+off her bonnet with assiduous kindness, (though Helen would have
+preferred wearing it to her room, to displaying her disordered hair and
+dusty raiment,) leaving to Mrs. Gleason the task of ministering to the
+lovely blind girl.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where&#8217;s brother? I do not hear his step,&#8221; said Alice, looking round as
+earnestly as if she expected to see his advancing figure.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He has just been called away,&#8221; said Louis, &#8220;or he would be here to
+greet you. My poor little Helen, you do indeed look dreadfully used up.
+You were never made for a traveler. Why Alice&#8217;s roses are scarcely
+wilted.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nothing but fatigue and a little sea-sickness,&#8221; cried her father, &#8220;a
+good night&#8217;s sleep is all she needs. You will see a very different
+looking girl to-morrow, I assure you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Better, far better as she is,&#8221; thought Mittie, as she assisted the
+young travelers up stairs.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>Ill and weary as she was, Helen could not help noticing the astonishing
+improvement in Mittie&#8217;s appearance, the life, the glow, the sunlight of
+her countenance. She gazed upon her with admiration and delight.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How handsome you have grown, Mittie,&#8221; said she, &#8220;and I doubt not as
+good as you are handsome. And you look so much happier than you used to
+do. Oh! I do hope we shall love each other as sisters ought to do. It is
+so sweet to have a sister to love.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The exchange of her warm, traveling dress for a loose, light undress,
+gave inexpressible relief to Helen, who, reclining on her <em>own
+delightful bed</em>, began to feel a soft, living glow stealing over the
+pallor of her cheek.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Shall I comb and brush your hair for you?&#8221; asked Mittie, sitting down
+by the side of the bed, and gathering together the tangled tresses of
+hazel brown, that looked dim in contrast with her own shining raven
+hair.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thank you,&#8221; said Helen, pressing her hand gratefully in both hers. &#8220;You
+are so kind. Only smooth Alice&#8217;s first. If her brother comes, she will
+want to see him immediately&mdash;and you don&#8217;t know what a pleasure it is to
+arrange her golden ringlets.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t <em>you</em> want to see the young doctor, too, Helen?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To be sure I do,&#8221; replied Helen, with a brightening color, &#8220;more than
+any one else in the world, I believe. But do they call him the young
+doctor, yet?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes&mdash;and will till he is as old as Methuselah, I expect,&#8221; replied
+Mittie, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Brother is not more than five or six and twenty, now,&#8221; cried Alice,
+with emphasis.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Or seven,&#8221; added Mittie. &#8220;Oh! he is sufficiently youthful, I dare say,
+but it is amusing to see how that name is fastened upon him. It is
+seldom we hear Doctor Hazleton mentioned. He does not look a day older
+than when he prescribed for you, Helen, in your yellow flannel
+night-gown. He had a look of precocious wisdom then, which becomes him
+better now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mittie began to think Helen very stupid, to say nothing of the dazzling
+Clinton, to whom she had taken particular pains to introduce her, when
+she suddenly asked her, &#8220;How long<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> that very handsome young gentleman
+was going to remain?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You think him handsome, then,&#8221; cried Mittie, making a veil of the
+flaxen ringlets of Alice, so that Helen could not see the high color
+that suffused her face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I think he is the handsomest person I ever saw,&#8221; replied Helen, just as
+if she were speaking of a beautiful picture or statue; &#8220;and yet there is
+something, I cannot tell what, that I do not exactly like about him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are fastidious,&#8221; said Mittie, coldly, and the sudden gleam of her
+eye reminding her of the Mittie of other days, Helen closed her weary
+lips.</p>
+
+<p>Tho next morning, she sprang from her bed light and early as the
+sky-lark. All traces of languor, indisposition and fatigue had vanished
+in the deep, tranquil, refreshing slumbers of the night. She awoke with
+the joyous consciousness of being at home beneath her father&#8217;s roof. She
+was not a boarder, subject to a thousand restraints, necessary but
+irksome. She was not compelled any more to fashion her movements to the
+ringing of a bell, nor walk according to the square and compass. She was
+free. She could wander in the garden without asking permission. She
+could <em>run</em> too, without incurring the imputation of rudeness and
+impropriety. The gyves and manacles of authority had fallen from her
+bounding limbs, and the joyous and emancipated school-girl sang in the
+gladness and glee of her heart.</p>
+
+<p>Alice still slept&mdash;the door of Mittie&#8217;s chamber was closed, and every
+thing was silent in the household, when she flew down stairs, rather
+than walked, and went forth into the dewy morn. The sun was not yet
+risen, but there was a deepening splendor of saffron and crimson above
+the horizon, fit tapestry for the pavilion of a God. The air was so
+fresh and balmy, it felt so young and inspiring, Helen could hardly
+imagine herself more than five years old. Every thing carried her back
+to the earliest recollections of childhood. There were the swallows
+flying in and out of their little gothic windows under the beetling
+barn-eaves; and there were the martins, morning gossips from time
+immemorial, chattering at the doors of their white pagodas, with their
+bright red roofs and black thresholds. The old England<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> robin, with its
+plumage of gorgeous scarlet, dashed with jet, swung in its airy nest,
+suspended from the topmost boughs of the tall elms, and the blue and
+yellow birds fluttered with warbling throats among the lilac&#8217;s now
+flowerless but verdant boughs. Helen hardly knew which way to turn, she
+was so full of ecstacy. One moment she wished she had the wings of the
+bird, the next, the petals of the flower, and then again she felt that
+the soul within her, capable of loving and admiring all these, was worth
+a thousand times more. The letters carved on the silver bark of the
+beech arrested her steps. They were new. She had never seen them before,
+and when she saw the blended ciphers, a perception of the truth dawned
+upon her understanding. Perhaps there never was a young maiden of
+sixteen years, who had more singleness and simplicity of heart than
+Helen. From her shy and timid habits, she had never formed those close
+intimacies that so often bind accidentally together the artless and the
+artful. She was aware of the existence of love, but knew nothing of its
+varying phases. Its language had never been breathed into her ear, and
+she never dreamed of inspiring it. Could it be that it was love, which
+had given such a glow and lustre to Mittie&#8217;s face, which had softened
+the harshness of her manners, and made her apparently accessible to
+sisterly tenderness?</p>
+
+<p>While she stood, contemplating the wedded initials, in a reverie so deep
+as to forget where she was, she felt something fall gently on her head,
+and a shower of fragrance bathed her senses. Turning suddenly round, the
+first rays of the rising sun glittered on her face, and gilt the
+flower-crown that rested on her brow. Clinton stood directly behind her,
+and his countenance wore a very different expression from what it did
+the preceding evening. And certainly it was difficult to recognize the
+pale, drooping, spiritless traveler of the previous night, in the
+bright, beaming, blushing, shy, wildly-sweet looking fairy of the
+morning hour.</p>
+
+<p>Helen was not angry, but she was unaffectedly frightened at finding
+herself in such close proximity with this very oppressively handsome
+young man; and without pausing to reflect on the silliness and
+childishness of the act, she flew away as rapidly as a startled bird. It
+seemed as if all the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> reminiscences of her childhood pressed home upon
+her in the space of a few moments. Just as she had been arrested years
+before, when fleeing from the snake that invaded her strawberry-bed, so
+she found herself impeded by a restraining arm; and looking up she
+beheld her friend, the young doctor, his face radiant with a thousand
+glad welcomes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh! I am <em>so glad</em> to see you once again,&#8221; exclaimed Helen, yielding
+involuntarily to the embrace, which being one moment withheld, only made
+her heart throb with double joy.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My sister, my Helen, my own dear pupil,&#8221; said Arthur Hazleton, and the
+rich glow of the morning was not deeper nor brighter than the color that
+mantled his cheek. &#8220;How well and blooming you look! They told me you
+were ill and could not be disturbed last night. I did not hope to see
+you so brilliant in health and spirits. And who crowned you so gayly,
+the fair queen of the morning?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know,&#8221; she cried, taking the chaplet from her head and shaking
+the dew-drops from its leaves, &#8220;and yet I suspect it was Mr. Clinton,
+who came behind me while I was standing by yonder beech tree.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Arthur&#8217;s serious, dark eye rested on the young girl with a searching,
+anxious expression, as Clinton approached and paid the compliments of
+the morning with more than his wonted gracefulness of manner. He
+apologized for the freedom he had taken so sportively and naturally,
+that Helen felt it would be ridiculous in her to assume a resentment she
+did not feel, and yielding to her passionate admiration for flowers, she
+wreathed them again round her sun-bright locks.</p>
+
+<p>It was thus the trio approached the house. Mittie saw them from the
+window, and the keenest pang she had ever known penetrated her heart.
+She saw the beech tree shorn of its morning garland, that garland which
+was blooming triumphantly on her sister&#8217;s brow. She saw Clinton walking
+by her side, calling up her smiles and blushes according to his own
+magnetic will.</p>
+
+<p>She accused Helen of deceit and guile. Her languor and illness the
+preceding evening was all assumed to heighten the blooming contrast of
+the present moment. Her morning<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> ramble and meeting with Clinton were
+all premeditated, her seeming artlessness the darkest and deepest
+hypocrisy.</p>
+
+<p>For a few weeks Mittie had revelled in the joy of an awakened nature.
+She had reigned alone, with no counter influence to thwart the sudden
+and luxuriant growth of passion. She, alone, young, beautiful and
+attractive, had been the magnet to youth, beauty and attraction. She had
+been the centre of an island world of her own, which she had tried to
+keep as inaccessible to others as the granite coast in the Arabian
+Nights.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Mittie! The flower of passion has ever a dark spot on its petals, a
+dark, purple spot, not always perceptible in the first unfolding and
+glory of its bloom; but sooner or later it spreads and scorches, and
+shrivels up the heart of the blossom.</p>
+
+<p>She tried to control her excited feelings. She was proud, and had a
+conviction that she would degrade herself by the exhibition of jealousy
+and envy. She tried to call up a bloom to her pale cheek, and a smile to
+her quivering lip, but she was no adept in the art of dissimulation, and
+when she entered the sitting room, Helen was the first to notice her
+altered countenance. It was fortunate for all present that Alice had
+seated herself at the piano, at the solicitation of Louis, and commenced
+a brilliant overture.</p>
+
+<p>Alice had always loved music, but now that she had learned it as an art,
+in all its perfectness, it had become the one passion of her life. She
+lived in the world of sound, and forgot the midnight that surrounded
+her. It was impossible to look upon her without feeling the truth, that
+if God closes with Bastile bars one avenue of the senses, He opens
+another with widening gates &#8220;on golden hinges moving.&#8221; Alice trembled
+with ecstacy at her own exquisite melody, like the nightingale whose
+soft plumage quivers on its breast as it sings. She would raise her
+sightless eyes to Heaven, following the upward strain with feelings of
+the most intense devotion. She called music the wind of the soul, the
+breath of God&mdash;and said if it had a color it must be <em>azure</em>.</p>
+
+<p>One by one they all gathered round the blind songstress. Arthur stood
+behind her, and Helen saw tears glistening in his eyes. She did not
+wonder at his emotion, for accustomed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> as she was to hear her, she never
+could hear Alice sing without feeling a desire to weep.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I feel so many wants,&#8221; she said, &#8220;that I never had before.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>While Alice was singing, Helen stole softly behind Mittie, and gently
+put the flowers on her hair.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have stolen your roses,&#8221; she whispered, &#8220;but I do not mean to keep
+them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mittie&#8217;s first impulse was to toss them upon the floor, but something in
+the eye of Clinton arrested her. She dared not do it. And looking
+steadfastly downward, outblushed the roses on her brow.</p>
+
+<p>The cloud appeared to have passed away, and the family party that
+surrounded the breakfast table was a gay and happy one.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I told you,&#8221; said Mr. Gleason, placing Helen beside him, and smiling
+affectionately on her gladsome countenance, &#8220;that we should have a very
+different looking girl this morning from our poor, little sick traveler.
+All Helen wants is the air of home to revive her. Who would want to see
+a more rustic looking lassie than she is now?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I should like to see how Helen would look now in a yellow flannel
+robe,&#8221; said Louis, mischievously, &#8220;and whether she will make as great a
+sensation on her entrance into society as she did when she burst into
+this room in such an impromptu manner?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The remembrance of the <em>yellow flannel robe</em>, and the eventful evening
+to which Louis alluded, was associated with the mother whom she had
+never ceased to mourn, and Helen bent her head to hide the tears which
+gathered into her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are not angry, gentle sister?&#8221; said Louis, seeking her downcast
+face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Helen was never angry in her life,&#8221; cried her father, &#8220;it is her only
+fault that she has not anger enough in her nature for self-preservation.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is that true, Helen?&#8221; asked the young doctor. &#8220;Has your father read
+your nature aright?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; answered Helen, looking up with an ingenuous smile. &#8220;I have felt
+very angry with you, and judged you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> very harshly several times. Yet I
+was most angry with myself for doing what you wished in spite of my
+vexation and rebellion.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yet you believed me right all the time?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I believe so. At least you always said so.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Helen conversed with Arthur Hazleton with the same freedom and
+childishness as when an inmate of his mother&#8217;s family. She was so
+completely a child, she could not think of herself as an object of
+importance in the social circle. She was inexpressibly grateful for
+kindness, and Arthur Hazleton&#8217;s kindness had been so constant and so
+deep, she felt as if her gratitude should be commensurate with the gifts
+received. It was the moral interest he had manifested in her&mdash;the
+influence he exercised over her mind and heart which she most prized. He
+was a kind of second conscience to her, and it did not seem possible for
+her to do any thing which he openly disapproved.</p>
+
+<p>What Mittie could not understand was the playful, unembarrassed manner
+with which she met the graceful attentions of Clinton, after his
+fascinations had dispersed her natural shyness and reserve. She neither
+sought nor avoided him, flattered nor slighted him. She appeared neither
+dazzled nor charmed. Mittie thought this must be the most consummate
+art, when it was only the perfection of nature. Because the glass was so
+clear, so translucent, she imagined she was the victim of an optical
+illusion.</p>
+
+<p>There was another thing in Helen, which Mittie believed the most studied
+policy, and that was the affection and respect she manifested for her
+step-mother. Nothing could be sweeter or more endearing than the
+&#8220;mother!&#8221; which fell from her lips, whenever she addressed her&mdash;that
+name which, had never yet passed her own. Mittie had never sought the
+love of her step-mother. She had rejected it with scorn, and yet she
+envied Helen the caressing warmth and maternal tenderness which was the
+natural reward of her own loving nature.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Poor Miss Thusa!&#8221; exclaimed Helen, near the close of the day, &#8220;I must
+go and see her before the sun sets; I know, I am sure she will be glad
+to see me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span>&#8220;Supposing we go in a party,&#8221; said Clinton. &#8220;I should like to pay my
+respects to the original old lady again.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I should think the rough reception she gave you, would preclude the
+desire for a second visit,&#8221; said Mittie.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh! I like to conquer difficulties,&#8221; he exclaimed. &#8220;The greater the
+obstacles, the greater the triumph.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps he meant nothing more than met the ear, but Mittie&#8217;s omnipotent
+self-love felt wounded. She had been too easy a conquest, whose value
+was already beginning to lessen.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Miss Thusa and Helen are such especial friends,&#8221; she added, without
+seeming to have heard his remark, &#8220;that I should think their first
+meeting had better be private. I suspect Miss Thusa has manufactured a
+new set of ghost stories for Helen&#8217;s peculiar benefit.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Are you a believer in ghosts?&#8221; asked Clinton of Helen. &#8220;If so, I envy
+you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Envy me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes! There is such a pleasure in credulity. I sigh now over the
+vanished illusions of my boyhood.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I once believed in ghosts,&#8221; replied Helen, &#8220;and even now, in solitude
+and darkness, the memories of childhood come back to me so powerfully,
+they are appalling. Miss Thusa might tell me a thousand stories now,
+without inspiring belief, while those told me in childhood can never be
+forgotten, or their impressions effaced.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yet you like Miss Thusa, and seem to remember her with affection.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She was so kind to me that I could not help loving her&mdash;and she seemed
+so lonely, with so few to love her, it seemed cruel to shut up the heart
+against her.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;One may be incredulous without being cruel, I should think,&#8221; said
+Mittie, with asperity. She felt the reproach, and could not believe it
+accidental. Poor Mittie! how much she suffered.</p>
+
+<p>Helen, who was really desirous of seeing Miss Thusa, and did not wish
+for the companionship of Clinton, stole away from the rest and took the
+path she well remembered, through the woods. The excessive hilarity of
+the morning had faded from her spirits. There was something
+indescribable about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> Mittie that annoyed and pained her. The gleam of
+kindness with which she had greeted her had all gone out, and left
+dullness and darkness in its stead. She could not get near her heart. At
+every avenue it seemed closed against her, and resisted the golden key
+of affection as effectually as the wrench of violence.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She must love me,&#8221; thought Helen, pursuing her way towards Miss
+Thusa&#8217;s, and picking up here and there a yellow leaf that came
+fluttering down at her feet. &#8220;I cannot live in coldness and estrangement
+with one I ought to love so dearly. It must be some fault of mine; I
+must discover what it is, and if it he my right eye, I would willingly
+pluck it out to secure her affection. Alice is going home, and how worse
+than lonely will I be!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Helen caught a glimpse of the stream where, when a child, she used to
+wade in the wimpling waters, and gather the diamond mica that sparkled
+on the sand. She thought of the time when the young doctor had washed
+the strawberry stains from her face, and wiped it with his nice linen
+handkerchief, and her heart glowed at the remembrance of his kindness.
+Mingled with this glow there was the flush of shame, for she could not
+help starting at every sudden rustling sound, thinking the coiling snake
+was lurking in ambush.</p>
+
+<p>There was an air of desolation about Miss Thusa&#8217;s cabin, which she had
+never noticed before. The stepping-stones of the door looked so much
+like grave-stones, so damp and mossy, it seemed sacrilege to tread upon
+them. Helen hardly did touch them, she skipped so lightly over the
+threshold, and stood before Miss Thusa smiling and out of breath.</p>
+
+<p>There she sat at her wheel, solemn and ancestral, and gray as ever, her
+foot upon the treadle, her hand upon the distaff, looking so much like a
+fixture of the place, it seemed strange not to see the moss growing
+green and damp on her stone-colored garments.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Miss Thusa!&#8221; exclaimed Helen, and the aged spinster started at the
+sound of that sweet, childish voice. Helen&#8217;s arms were around her neck
+in a moment, and without knowing why, she burst into an unexpected fit
+of weeping.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span>&#8220;I am so foolish,&#8221; said Helen, after she had dashed away her tears, and
+squeezed herself into a little seat between Miss Thusa and her wheel,
+&#8220;but I am so glad to get home, so glad to see you all once more.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Thusa&#8217;s iron nerves seemed quite unstrung by the unexpected delight
+of greeting her favorite child. She had not heard of her return, and
+could scarcely realize her presence. She kept wiping her glasses,
+without seeming conscious that the moisture was in her own eyes, gazed
+on Helen&#8217;s upturned face with indescribable tenderness, smoothed back
+her golden brown hair, and then stooping down, kissed, with an air of
+benediction, her fair young brow.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You have not forgotten me, then! You are still nothing but a child,
+nothing but little Helen. And yet you are grown&mdash;and you look healthier
+and rounder, and a shade more womanly. You are not as handsome as
+Mittie, and yet where one stops to look at her, ten will turn to gaze on
+you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, no! Mittie is grown so beautiful no one could think of any one else
+when she is near.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The young man with the long black hair thinks her beautiful? Does he
+not?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I believe so. Who could help it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Does she love you better than she used to?&#8221; asked Miss Thusa.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I will try to deserve her love,&#8221; replied Helen, evasively; &#8220;but, Miss
+Thusa, I am coming every day to take spinning lessons of you. I really
+want to learn to spin. Perhaps father may fail one of these days, and I
+be thrown on my own resources, and then I could earn my living as you do
+now. Will you bequeath me your wheel, Miss Thusa?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The bright smile with which she looked up to Miss Thusa, died away in a
+kind of awe, as she met the solemn earnestness of her glance.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, yes, child, I have long intended it as a legacy of love to you.
+There is a history hanging to it, which I will tell you by and by. For
+more than forty years that wheel and I have been companions and friends,
+and it is so much a part of myself, that if any one should cut into the
+old carved wood, I verily believe the blood-drops would drip from my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span>
+heart. Things will grow together, powerfully, Helen, after a long, long
+time. And so you want to learn to spin, child. Well! suppose you sit
+down and try. These little white fingers will soon be cut by the flax,
+though, I can tell you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;May I, Miss Thusa, may I?&#8221; cried Helen, seating herself with childish
+delight at the venerable instrument, and giving it a whirl that might
+have made the flax smoke. Miss Thusa looked on with a benevolent and
+patronizing air, while Helen pressed her foot upon the treadle,
+wondering why it would jerk so, when it went round with Miss Thusa so
+smoothly, and pulled out the flax at arm&#8217;s length, wondering why it
+would run into knots and bunches, when it glided so smooth and even
+through Miss Thusa&#8217;s practiced fingers. Helen was so busy, and so
+excited by the new employment, she did not perceive a shadow cross the
+window, nor was she aware of the approach of any one, till an unusually
+gay laugh made her turn her head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I thought Miss Thusa looked wonderfully rejuvenated,&#8221; said Arthur
+Hazleton, leaning against the window-frame on the outside of the
+building, &#8220;but methinks she is the more graceful spinner, after all.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This is only my first lesson,&#8221; cried Helen, jumping up, for the band
+had slipped from the groove, and hung in a hopeless tangle&mdash;&#8220;and I fear
+Miss Thusa will never be willing to give me another.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ten thousand, child, if you will take them,&#8221; cried Miss Thusa,
+good-naturedly, repairing the mischief her pupil had done.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you know the sun is down?&#8221; asked Arthur, &#8220;and that your path lies
+through the woods?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Helen started, and for the first time became aware that the shadows of
+twilight were deepening on the landscape. She did not think Arthur
+Hazleton would accompany her home. He would test her courage as he had
+done before, and taking a hurried leave of Miss Thusa, promising to stay
+and hear many a legend next time, she jumped over the stile before
+Arthur could overtake her and assist her steps.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Would you prefer walking alone?&#8221; said Arthur, &#8220;or will you accept of my
+escort?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>&#8220;I did not think you intended coming with me,&#8221; said Helen, &#8220;or I would
+have waited.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You thought me as rude and barbarous as ever.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps you think me as foolish and timid as ever.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You have become courageous and fearless then&mdash;I congratulate you&mdash;I
+told you that you would one day be a heroine.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That day will never come,&#8221; said Helen, blushing. &#8220;My fears are
+hydras&mdash;as fast as one is destroyed another is born. Shadows will always
+be peopled with phantoms, and darkness is to me the shadow of the
+grave.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am sorry to hear you say so, Helen,&#8221; said the young doctor, taking
+her hand, and leading her along the shadowy path, &#8220;and yet you feel safe
+with me. You fear not when I am with you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, no!&#8221; exclaimed Helen, involuntarily drawing nearer to him&mdash;&#8220;I never
+fear in your presence. Midnight would seem noonday, and all phantoms
+flee away.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And yet, Helen,&#8221; he cried, &#8220;you have a friend always near, stronger to
+protect than legions of angels can be. Do you realize this truth?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I trust, I believe I do,&#8221; answered Helen, looking upward into the dome
+of darkening blue that seemed resting upon the tall, dark pillars of the
+woods. &#8220;I sometimes think if I were really exposed to a great danger, I
+could brave it without shrinking&mdash;or if danger impended over one I
+loved, I should forget all selfish apprehensions. Try not to judge me
+too severely&mdash;and I will do my best to correct the faults of my
+childhood.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They walked on in silence a few moments, for there was something hushing
+in the soft murmurs of the branches, something like the distant roaring
+of the ocean surge.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I must take Alice home to-morrow,&#8221; said he, at length; &#8220;her mother
+longs to behold her. I wish you were going with her. I fear you will not
+be happy here.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I cannot leave my father,&#8221; said Helen, sadly, &#8220;and if I can only keep
+out of the way of other people&#8217;s happiness, I will try to be content.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;May I speak to you freely, Helen, as I did several years<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> ago? May I
+counsel you as a friend&mdash;guide you as a brother still?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is all that I wished&mdash;more than I dared to ask. I only fear that I
+shall give you too much trouble.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was a gray, old rock by the way-side, that looked exactly as if it
+belonged to Miss Thusa&#8217;s establishment. Arthur Hazleton seated Helen
+there, and threw himself on the moss at her feet.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am going away to-morrow,&#8221; said he, &#8220;and I feel as if I had much to
+say. I leave you exposed to temptation; and to put you on your guard, I
+must say perhaps what you will think unauthorized. You know so little of
+the world&mdash;are so guileless and unsuspecting&mdash;I cannot bear to alarm
+your simplicity; and yet, Helen, you cannot always remain a child.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I wish I could,&#8221; she exclaimed; &#8220;I cannot bear the thought of being
+otherwise. As long as I am a child, I shall be caressed, cherished, and
+forgiven for all my faults. I never shall be able to act on my own
+responsibility&mdash;never.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, Helen, you have attained the stature of womanhood. You are looked
+upon as a candidate for admiration&mdash;as the rival of your beautiful
+sister. You will be flattered and courted, not as a child, but as a
+woman. The young man who has become, as it were, domesticated in your
+family, has extraordinary personal attractions, and every member of the
+household appears to have yielded to his influence. Were I as sure of
+his moral worth as of his outward graces, I would not say what I have
+done. But, with one doubt on my mind, as your early friend, as the
+self-elected guardian of your happiness, I cannot forbear to caution, to
+admonish, perhaps to displease, by my too watchful, too officious
+friendship.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Arthur paused. His voice had become agitated and his manner excited.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You cannot believe me capable of the meanness of envy,&#8221; he added. &#8220;Were
+Bryant Clinton less handsome, less fascinating, his sincerity and truth
+might be a question of less moment.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How could you envy any one,&#8221; cried Helen, earnestly, unconscious how
+much her words and manner expressed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> &#8220;Displeased! Oh! I thank you so
+much. But indeed I do not admire Mr. Bryant Clinton at all. He is
+entirely too handsome and dazzling. I do not like that long, curling,
+shining hair of his. The first time I saw him, it reminded me of the
+undulations of that terrible snake in the strawberry patch, and I cannot
+get over the association. Then he does not admire me at all, only as the
+sister of Mittie.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He has paid Mittie very great and peculiar attention, and people look
+upon them as betrothed lovers. Were you to become an object of jealousy
+to her, you would be very, very unhappy. The pleasure of gratified
+vanity would be faint to the stings exasperated and wounded love could
+inflict.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;For all the universe could offer I would not be my sister&#8217;s rival,&#8221;
+cried Helen, rising impetuously, and looking round her with a wild
+startled expression. &#8220;I will go and tell her so at once. I will ask her
+to confide in me and trust me. I will go away if she wishes it. If my
+father is willing, I will live with Miss Thusa in the wild woods.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wait awhile,&#8221; said Arthur, smiling at her vehemence, &#8220;wait Helen,
+patiently, firmly. When temptations arise, it is time to resist. I fear
+I have done wrong in giving premature warning, but the impulse was
+irresistible, in the silence of these twilight woods.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Helen looked up through the soft shadows to thank him again for his
+counsels, and promise that they should be the guide of her life, but the
+words died on her lips. There was something so darkly penetrating in the
+expression of his countenance, so earnest, yet troubled, so opposite to
+its usual serene gravity, that it infected her. Her heart beat
+violently, and for the first time in her life she felt embarrassed in
+his presence.</p>
+
+<p>That night Helen pressed a wakeful pillow. She felt many years older
+than when she rose in the morning, for the experience of the day had
+been so oppressive. She could not realize that she had thought and felt
+and learned so much in twelve short hours.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;All other passions have their hour of thinking,<br />
+And hear the voice of reason. This alone<br />
+Breaks at the first suspicion into frenzy,<br />
+And sweeps the soul in tempests.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Shakspeare.</cite></p>
+
+
+<p class="firstpar"><span class="smcap">The</span> day that Alice left, Helen felt very sad and lonely, but she
+struggled with her feelings, and busied herself as much as possible with
+the household arrangements. Mrs. Gleason took her into the chamber which
+Mittie had been occupying alone, and showed her every thing that had
+been prepared for her accommodation as well as her sister&#8217;s. Helen was
+unbounded in her gratitude, and thought the room a paradise, with its
+nice curtains, tasteful furniture and airy structure.</p>
+
+<p>When night came on, Helen retired early to her chamber, leaving Mittie
+with Clinton. She left the light burning on the hearth, for the memory
+of the lonely spinster, invoking by her song the horrible being, who
+descended, piece-meal, down the chimney, had not died away. That was the
+very chamber in which Miss Thusa used to spin, and recite her dreadful
+tales, and Helen remembered them all. It had been papered, and painted,
+and renewed, but the chimney was the same, and the shadows rested there
+as darkly as ever.</p>
+
+<p>When Mittie entered the room, Helen was already in that luxurious state
+between sleeping and waking, which admits of the consciousness of
+enjoyment, without its responsibility. She was reclining on the bed,
+shaded by the muslin curtains, with such an expression of innocence and
+peace on her countenance, it was astonishing how any one could have
+marred the tranquillity of her repose.</p>
+
+<p>The entrance of her sister partially roused her, and the glare of the
+lamp upon her face completely awakened her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh! sister!&#8221; she cried, &#8220;I am so glad you have come. It is so long
+since we have slept together. I have been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> thinking how happy we can be,
+where so much has been done for our comfort and luxury.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You can enjoy all the luxuries yourself,&#8221; said Mittie, &#8220;and be welcome
+to them all. I am going to sleep in the next room, for I prefer being
+alone, as I have been before.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh! Mittie, you are not going to leave me alone; you will not, surely,
+be so unkind?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I wonder if I were not left alone, while Alice was with you, and I
+wonder if I complained of unkindness!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But <em>you</em> did not care. You are not dependent on others. I am sure if
+you had asked me, I would have spread a pallet on the floor, rather than
+have left you alone.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Helen, you are too old now to be such a baby,&#8221; said Mittie,
+impatiently; &#8220;it is time you were cured of your foolish fears of being
+alone. You make yourself perfectly ridiculous by such nonsense.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She busied herself gathering her night-clothes as she spoke, and took
+the lamp from the table.</p>
+
+<p>Helen sprang from the bed, and stood between Mittie and the door.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; said she, &#8220;if we must separate, I will go. You need not leave the
+chamber which has so long been yours. I do dread being alone, but alas!
+I must be lonely wherever I am, unless I have a heart to lean upon. Oh!
+Mittie, if you knew how I <em>could</em> love you, you would let me throw my
+arms around you, and find a pillow on your sisterly breast.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She looked pleadingly, wistfully at Mittie, while tears glittered in her
+soft, earnest eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Foolish, foolish child!&#8221; cried Mittie, setting down the lamp
+petulantly, and tossing her night-dress on the bed&mdash;&#8220;stay where you are,
+but do not inflict too much sentiment on me&mdash;you know I never liked it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; said Helen, thoughtfully, &#8220;I might disturb you, and perhaps if I
+once conquer my timidity, I shall be victor for life. I should like to
+make the trial, and I may as well begin to-night as any time. I do not
+wish to be troublesome, or intrude my company on any one.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Helen&#8217;s gentle spirit was roused by the arbitrary manner in which Mittie
+had treated her, and she found courage to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> act as her better judgment
+approved. She was sorry she had pleaded so earnestly for what she might
+have claimed as a right, and resolved to leave her sister to the
+solitude she so much coveted.</p>
+
+<p>With a low, but cold &#8220;good night,&#8221; she glided from the apartment, closed
+the door, passed through the passage, entered a lonely chamber, and
+kneeling down by the bedside, prayed to be delivered from the bondage of
+fear, and the haunting phantoms of her own imagination. When she laid
+her head upon the pillow, she felt strong in the resolution she had
+exercised, glad that she had dared to resist her own weak, irresolute
+heart. She drew aside the window curtains and let the stars shine down
+brightly on her face. How could she feel alone, with such a glorious
+company all round and about her? How could she fear, when so many
+radiant lamps were lighted to disperse the darkness? Gradually the quick
+beating of her heart subsided, the moistened lashes shut down over her
+dazzled eyes, and she slept quietly till the breaking of morn. When she
+awoke, and recalled the struggles she had gone through, she rejoiced at
+the conquest she had obtained over herself. She was sure if Arthur
+Hazleton knew it, he would approve of her conduct, and she was glad that
+she cherished no vindictive feelings towards Mittie.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She certainly has a right to her preferences,&#8221; she said; &#8220;if she likes
+solitude, I ought not to blame her for seeking it, and I dare say my
+company is dull and insipid to her. I must have seemed weak and foolish
+to her, she who never knew what fear or weakness is.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>As she was leaving her room, with many a vivid resolution to conquer her
+besetting weaknesses, her step-mother entered, unconscious that the
+chamber had an occupant. She looked around with surprise, and Helen
+feared, with displeasure.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mittie preferred sleeping alone,&#8221; she hastened to say, &#8220;and I thought
+she had a prior right to the other apartment.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Selfish, selfish to the heart&#8217;s core!&#8221; ejaculated Mrs. Gleason. &#8220;But,
+my dear child, I cannot allow you to be the victim of an arbitrary will.
+The more you yield, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> more concessions will be required. You know
+not, dream not, of Mittie&#8217;s imperious and exacting nature.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I begin to believe, dear mother, that the discipline we most need, we
+receive. I did feel very unhappy last night, and when I entered this
+room, the dread of remaining all alone, in darkness and silence, almost
+stopped the beatings of my heart. It was the first time I ever passed a
+night without some companion, for every one has indulged my weakness,
+which they believed constitutional. But after the first few moments&mdash;a
+sense of God&#8217;s presence and protection, of the guardianship of angels,
+of the nearness of Heaven, hushed all my fears, and filled me with a
+kind of divine tranquillity. Oh! mother, I feel so much better this
+morning for the trial, that I thank Mittie for having cast me, as it
+were, on the bosom of God.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;With such a spirit, Helen,&#8221; said her step-mother, tenderly embracing
+her, &#8220;you will be able to meet whatever trials the discipline of your
+life may need. Self-reliance and God-reliance are the two great
+principles that must sustain us. We must do our duty, and leave the
+result to Providence. And, believe me, Helen, it is a species of
+ingratitude to suffer ourselves to be made unhappy by the faults of
+others, for which we are not responsible, when blessings are clustering
+richly round us.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Helen felt strengthened by the affectionate counsels of her step-mother,
+and did not allow the cloud on Mittie&#8217;s brow to dim the sunshine of
+hers. Mindful of the warnings of the young doctor, she avoided Clinton
+as much as possible, whose deep blue eyes with their long sable lashes
+often rested on her with an expression she could not define, and which
+she shrunk from meeting. True to her promise she visited Miss Thusa once
+a day, and took her spinning lessons, till she could turn the wheel like
+a fairy, and manufacture thread as smooth and silky as her venerable
+teacher. She insisted on bleaching it also, and flew about among the
+long grass, with her bright watering pot, like a living flower sprung up
+in the wilderness.</p>
+
+<p>She was returning one evening from the cabin at a rather later hour than
+usual, for she was becoming more and more courageous, and could walk
+through the woods without start<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>ing at every sound. The trees were now
+beginning to assume the magnificent hues of autumn, and glowed with
+mingled scarlet, orange, emerald, and purple. There was such a
+brightness, such a glory in these variegated dyes, that they took away
+all impression of loneliness, and the crumpling of the dry, yellow
+leaves in the path had a sociable, pleasant sound. She hoped Arthur
+Hazleton would return before this jewelry of the woods had faded away,
+that she might walk with him through their gorgeous foliage, and hear
+from his lips the deep moral of the waning season. She reached the gray
+rock where Arthur had seated her, and sitting down on a thick cushion of
+fallen leaves, she remembered every word he had said to her the evening
+before his departure.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why are you sitting so mute and lonely here, fair Helen?&#8221; said a
+musical voice close to her ear, and Clinton suddenly came and took a
+seat by her side. Helen felt embarrassed by his unexpected presence, and
+wished that she could free herself from it without rudeness.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am gazing on the beauty of the autumnal woods,&#8221; she replied, her
+cheeks glowing like the scarlet maple leaves.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I should think such contemplation better fitted one less young and
+bright and fair,&#8221; said Clinton. &#8220;Miss Thusa, for instance, in her
+time-gray home.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am sure nothing can be brighter or more glorious than these colors,&#8221;
+said Helen, making a motion to rise. It seemed to her she could see the
+black eyes of Mittie gleaming at her through the rustling foliage.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do not go yet,&#8221; said Clinton. &#8220;This is such a sweet, quiet hour&mdash;and it
+is the first time I have seen you alone since the morning after your
+arrival. What have I done that you shun me as an enemy, and refuse me
+the slightest token of confidence and regard?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am not conscious of showing such great avoidance,&#8221; said Helen, more
+and more embarrassed. &#8220;I am so much of a stranger, and it seemed so
+natural that you should prefer the society of Mittie, I considered my
+absence a favor to both.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Till you came,&#8221; he replied, in a low, persuasive accent, &#8220;I did find a
+charm in her society unknown before, but now I feel every thought and
+feeling and hope turned into a new<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> channel. Even before you came, I
+felt you were to be my destiny. Stay, Helen, you shall not leave me till
+I have told you what my single heart is too narrow to contain.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let me go,&#8221; cried Helen, struggling to release the hand which he had
+taken, and springing from her rocky seat. &#8220;It is not right to talk to me
+in this manner, and I will not hear you. It is false to Mittie, and
+insulting to me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I should be false to Mittie should I pretend to love her now, when my
+whole heart and soul are yours,&#8221; exclaimed the young man, vehemently. &#8220;I
+can no more resist the impulse that draws me to you, than I can stay the
+beatings of this wildly throbbing heart. Love, Helen, cannot be forced,
+neither can it be restrained.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know nothing of love,&#8221; cried Helen, pressing on her homeward path,
+with a terror she dared not betray, &#8220;nor do I wish to know&mdash;but one
+thing I do know&mdash;I feel nothing but dread in your presence. You make me
+wretched and miserable. I am sure if you have the feelings of a
+gentleman you will leave me after telling you this.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The more you urge me to flee, the more firmly am I rooted to your side.
+You do not know your own heart, Helen. You are so young and guileless.
+It is not dread of me, but your sister&#8217;s displeasure that makes you
+tremble with fear. You cannot fear me, Helen&mdash;you <em>must</em>, you <em>will</em>,
+you <em>shall</em> love me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Helen was now wrought up to a pitch of excitement and terror that was
+perfectly uncontrollable. Every word uttered by Clinton seemed burned
+in&mdash;on her brain, not her heart, and she pressed both hands on her
+forehead, as if to put out the flame.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh! that Arthur Hazleton were here,&#8221; she exclaimed, &#8220;he would protect
+me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No danger shall reach you while I am near you, Helen,&#8221; cried Clinton,
+again endeavoring to take her hand in his&mdash;but Helen darted into a side
+path and ran as fleetly and wildly as when she believed the glittering,
+fiery-eyed viper was pursuing her. Sometimes she caught hold of the
+slender trunk of a tree to give her a quicker momentum, and sometimes
+she sprang over brooklets, which, in a calmer moment, she would have
+deemed impossible. She felt that Clinton<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> had slackened his pursuit as
+she drew near her home, but she never paused till she found herself in
+her own chamber, where, sinking into a chair, she burst into a passion
+of tears such as she had never wept before. Shame, dread, resentment,
+fear&mdash;all pressed so crushingly upon her, her soul was bowed even to the
+dust. The future lowered so darkly before her. Mittie&mdash;she could not
+help looking upon her as a kind of avenging spirit&mdash;that would forever
+haunt her.</p>
+
+<p>While she was in this state of ungovernable emotion, Mittie came in,
+with a face as white and rigid as marble, and stood directly in front of
+her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why have you fled from Clinton so?&#8221; she cried, in a strange, harsh
+tone. &#8220;Tell me, for I will know. Tell me, for I have a right to know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Helen tried to speak, but her breathless lips sought in vain to utter a
+sound. There was a bright, red spot in the centre of both cheeks, but
+the rest of her face was as colorless as Mittie&#8217;s.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Speak,&#8221; cried Mittie, stamping her foot, with an imperious gesture,
+&#8220;and tell me the truth, or you had better never have been born.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ask me nothing,&#8221; she said at length, recovering breath to answer, &#8220;for
+the truth will only make you wretched.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What has he said to you?&#8221; repeated Mittie, seizing the arm of Helen
+with a force of which she was not aware. &#8220;Have you dared to let him talk
+to you about love?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Alas! I want not his love. I believe him not,&#8221; cried Helen; &#8220;and, oh!
+Mittie, trust him not. Think of him no more. He does not love you&mdash;is
+not worthy of you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mittie tossed Helen&#8217;s arm from her with a violence that made her writhe
+with pain&mdash;while her eyes flashed with the bale-fires of passion.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How dare you tell me such a falsehood?&#8221; she exclaimed, &#8220;you little,
+artful, consummate hypocrite. He never told you this. You have been
+trying to supplant me from the moment of your arrival, trying to make
+yourself appear a victim, a saint&mdash;a martyr to a sister&#8217;s jealous and
+exciting temper. I have seen it all. I have watched the whole, day after
+day. I have seen you stealing off to Miss Thusa&#8217;s&mdash;pretending to love
+that horrible old woman&mdash;only that you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> might have clandestine meetings
+with Clinton. And now you are seeking to shake my confidence in his
+faith and truth, that you may alienate him more completely from me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh! Mittie&mdash;don&#8217;t,&#8221; cried Helen, &#8220;don&#8217;t for Heaven&#8217;s sake, talk so
+dreadfully. You don&#8217;t mean what you say. You don&#8217;t know what you are
+doing.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I tell you I do know&mdash;and you shall know to your cost, you little wolf
+in lamb&#8217;s clothing,&#8221; cried Mittie, growing more and more frantic as she
+yielded to the violence of her passions. &#8220;It was not enough, was it, to
+wind yourself round the young doctor with your subtle, childish ways,
+till you have made a fool of him with all his wisdom, treating him with
+a forwardness and familiarity that ought to make you blush at the
+remembrance&mdash;but you must come between me and the only being this side
+of Heaven I ever cared for? Take care of yourself; get out of my way,
+for I am growing mad. The sight of you makes me a maniac.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Helen was indeed terrified at an exhibition of temper so unparalleled.
+She rose, though her limbs trembled so she could scarcely walk, and took
+two or three steps towards the door.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where are you going?&#8221; exclaimed Mittie.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You told me to leave you,&#8221; said Helen, faintly, &#8220;and indeed I cannot
+stay&mdash;I ought not to stay, and hear such false and cruel things. I will
+not stay,&#8221; she exclaimed, with a sudden and startling flash of
+indignation; &#8220;I will not stay to be so insulted and trampled on. Let me
+pass.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You shall not go to Clinton.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let me pass, I say,&#8221; cried Helen, with a wild vehemence, that
+contrasted fearfully with her usual gentleness. &#8220;I am afraid of you,
+with such daggers in your tongue.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She rushed passed Mittie, flew down stairs, into the sitting room, in
+the presence of her father, step-mother, and Clinton, who was sitting as
+if perfectly unconscious of the tempest he had roused.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Father, father,&#8221; she exclaimed, throwing herself into his arms. &#8220;Oh,
+father.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Nothing could be more startling than her appearance. The bright spot on
+her cheek was now deepened to purple, and her eyes had a strange,
+feverish lustre.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span>&#8220;Why, what is the meaning of this?&#8221; cried Mr. Gleason, turning in alarm
+to his wife.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Something must have terrified her&mdash;only feel of her hands, they are as
+cold as ice; and look at her cheeks.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She seems ill, very ill,&#8221; observed Clinton, rising, much agitated;
+&#8220;shall I go for a physician?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I fear Doctor Hazleton is not yet returned,&#8221; said Mrs. Gleason,
+anxiously. &#8220;I think she is indeed ill&mdash;alarmingly so.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, no,&#8221; cried Helen, clinging closer to her father, &#8220;don&#8217;t send for
+Doctor Hazleton&mdash;anybody in the world but him. I cannot see him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How strange,&#8221; exclaimed Mr. Gleason, &#8220;she must be getting delirious.
+You had better carry her up stairs,&#8221; added he, turning to his wife, &#8220;and
+do something to relieve her, while I go for some medical advice. She is
+subject to sudden nervous attacks.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, no,&#8221; cried Helen, still more vehemently, &#8220;don&#8217;t take me up stairs;
+I cannot go back; it would kill me. Only let me stay with you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Gleason, who well remembered the terrible fright Helen had suffered
+in her childhood&mdash;her fainting over her mother&#8217;s corpse&mdash;her
+imprisonment in the lonely school-house&mdash;believed that she had received
+some sudden shock inflicted by a phantom of her own imagination. Her
+frantic opposition to being taken up stairs confirmed this belief, and
+he insisted on his wife&#8217;s conveying her to her own room and giving her
+an anodyne. Clinton felt as if his presence must be intrusive, and left
+the room&mdash;but he divined the cause of Helen&#8217;s strange emotion. He heard
+a quick, passionate tread overhead, and he well knew what the
+lion-strength of Mittie&#8217;s unchained passions must be.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Gleason, too, had her suspicions of the truth, having seen Helen&#8217;s
+homeward flight, and heard the voice of Mittie soon afterwards in loud
+and angry tones. She besought her husband to leave her to her care,
+assuring him that all she needed was perfect quietude. For more than an
+hour Mrs. Gleason sat by the side of Helen, holding her hands in one of
+hers, while she bathed with the other her throbbing temples. Gradually
+the deep, purple flush faded to a pale hue, and her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> eyes gently closed.
+The step-mother thought she slept, and darkened the window&mdash;so that the
+rays of the young moon could not glimmer through the casement. Mrs.
+Gleason looked upon Helen with anguish, seeing before her so much misery
+in consequence of her sister&#8217;s jealous and irascible temper. She sighed
+for the departure of Clinton, whose coming had roused Mittie to such
+terrible life, and whose fascinations might be deadly to the peace of
+Helen. She could see no remedy to the evils which every day might
+increase&mdash;for she knew by long experience the indomitable nature of
+Mittie&#8217;s temper.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mother,&#8221; said Helen, softly, opening her eyes, &#8220;I do not sleep, but I
+rest, and it is so sweet&mdash;I feel as if I had been out in a terrible
+storm&mdash;so shattered and so bruised within. Oh! mother, you cannot think
+of the shameful accusations she has brought against me. It makes me
+shudder to think of them. I shall never, never be happy again. They will
+always be ringing in my ears&mdash;always blistering and burning me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You should not think her words of such consequence,&#8221; said Mrs. Gleason,
+soothingly; &#8220;nothing she can say can soil the purity of your nature, or
+alienate the affections of your friends. She is a most unhappy girl,
+doomed, I fear, to be the curse of this otherwise happy household.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I cannot live so,&#8221; cried Helen, clasping her hands entreatingly, &#8220;I
+would rather die than live in such strife and shame. It makes me wicked
+and passionate. I cannot help feeling hatred rising in my bosom, and
+then I loathe myself in dust and ashes. Oh! let me go somewhere, where I
+may be at peace&mdash;anywhere in the world where I shall be in nobody&#8217;s way.
+Ask father to send me back to school&mdash;I am young enough, and shall be
+years yet; or I should like to go into a nunnery, that must be such a
+peaceful place. No stormy passions&mdash;no dark, bosom strife.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, my dear, we are not going to give up you, the joy and idol of our
+hearts. You shall not be the sacrifice; I will shield you henceforth
+from the violence of this lawless girl. Tell me all the events of this
+evening, Helen, without reserve. Let there be perfect confidence between
+us, or we are all lost.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span>Then Helen, though with many a painful and burning blush, told of her
+interview with Clinton, and all of which Mittie had so frantically
+accused her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;When I rushed down stairs, I did not know what I was doing&mdash;my brain
+seemed on fire, and I thought my reason was gone. If I could find a
+place of shelter from her wrath, a spot where her eye could not blaze
+upon me! that was my only thought.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh! that this dangerous, and I fear, unprincipled young man had never
+entered our household!&#8221; cried Mrs. Gleason; &#8220;and yet I would not judge
+him too harshly. Mittie&#8217;s admiration, from the first, was only too
+manifest, and he must have seen before you arrived, the extraordinary
+defects of her temper. That he should prefer you, after having seen and
+known you, seems so natural, I cannot help pitying, while I blame him.
+If it were possible to accelerate his departure&mdash;I must consult with Mr.
+Gleason, for something must be done to restore the lost peace of the
+family.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let me go, dear mother, and all may yet be well.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If you would indeed like to visit the Parsonage, and remain till this
+dark storm subsides, it might perhaps be judicious.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not the Parsonage&mdash;never, never again shall I be embosomed in its
+hallowed shades&mdash;I would not go there now, for ten thousand worlds.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is wrong, Helen, to allow the words of one, insane with passion, to
+have the least influence on the feelings or conduct. Mrs. Hazleton,
+Arthur, and Alice, have been your best and truest friends, and you must
+not allow yourself to be alienated from them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Helen closed her eyes to hide the tears that gathered on their surface,
+and it was not long before she sunk into a deep sleep. She had indeed
+received a terrible shock, and one from which her nerves would long
+vibrate.</p>
+
+<p>The first time a young girl listens to the language of love, even if it
+steals into her heart gently and soothingly as the sweet south wind,
+wakening the sleeping fragrance of a thousand bosom flowers, every
+feeling flutters and trembles like the leaves of the mimosa, and recoils
+from the slightest contact. But when she is forced suddenly and rudely
+to hear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> the accents of passion, with which she associates the idea of
+guilt, and treachery, and shame, she feels as if some robber had broken
+into the temple consecrated to the purest, most innocent emotions, and
+stolen the golden treasures hidden there. This alone was sufficient to
+wound and terrify the young and sensitive Helen, but when her sister
+assailed her with such a temper of wrathful accusations, accusations so
+shameful and degrading, it is not strange that she was wrought up to the
+state of partial frenzy which led her to rush to a father&#8217;s bosom for
+safety and repose.</p>
+
+<p>And where was Mittie, the unhappy victim of her own wild, ungovernable
+passion?</p>
+
+<p>She remained in her room with her door locked, seated at the window,
+looking out into the darkness, which was illuminated by the rays of a
+waxing moon. She could see the white bark of the beech tree, conspicuous
+among the other trees, and knowing the spot where the letters were
+carved, she imagined she could trace them all, and that they were the
+scarlet color of blood.</p>
+
+<p>She had no light in her room, but feeling in her writing desk for the
+pen-knife, she stole down stairs the back way and took the path she had
+so often walked with Clinton. She was obliged to pass the room where
+Helen lay, and glancing in at the window when the curtain fluttered, she
+could see her pale, sad-looking face, and she did not like to look
+again. She knew she had wronged her, for the moment she had given
+utterance to her railing words, conscience told her they were false.
+This conviction, however, did not lessen the rancor and bitterness of
+her feelings. Hurrying on, she paused in front of the beech tree, and
+the cyphers glared Upon her as if seen through a magnifying glass&mdash;they
+looked so large and fiery. Opening her pen-knife, she smiled as a
+moonbeam glared on its keen, blue edge. Had any one seen the expression
+of her features, as she gazed at that shining, open blade, they would
+have shuddered, and trembled for her purpose.</p>
+
+<p>With a quick, hurried motion, she began to cut the bark from round the
+letters, till they seemed to melt away into one large cavity. She knew
+that some one was coming behind her, and she knew, too, by a kind of
+intuition, that it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> was Clinton, but she did not pause in her work of
+destruction.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mittie! what are you doing?&#8221; he exclaimed. &#8220;Good Heavens!&mdash;give me that
+knife.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>As she threw up her right hand to elude his grasp, she saw the blood
+streaming from her fingers. She was not aware that she had cut herself.
+She suffered no pain. She gazed with pleasure on the flowing blood.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let me bind my handkerchief round the wound,&#8221; said Clinton, in a
+gentle, sympathizing voice. &#8220;You are really enough to drive one
+frantic.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<em>Your</em> handkerchief!&#8221; she exclaimed, in an accent of ineffable scorn.
+&#8220;I would put a bandage of fire round it as soon. <em>Drive one frantic!</em> I
+suppose your conduct must make one very calm, very cool and reasonable.
+But I can tell you, Bryant Clinton, that when you made me the plaything
+of your selfish and changing passions, you began a dangerous game. You
+thought me, perchance, a love-sick maiden, whose heart would break in
+silence and darkness, but you know me not. I will not suffer alone. If I
+sink into an abyss of wretchedness, it shall not be alone. I will drag
+down with me all who have part or lot in my misery and despair.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Clinton&#8217;s eye quailed before the dark, passionate glance riveted upon
+him. The moon gave only a pale, doubtful lustre, and its reflection on
+her face was like the night-light on deep waters&mdash;a dark, quivering
+brightness, giving one an idea of beauty and splendor and danger. Her
+hair was loose and hung around her in black, massy folds, imparting an
+air of wild, tragic majesty to her figure. Twisting one of the sable
+tresses round her bleeding fingers, she pressed them against her heart.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mittie,&#8221; said Clinton. There was something remarkable in the voice of
+Clinton. Its lowest tones, and they were exceedingly low, were as
+distinct and clear as the notes of the most exquisitely tuned
+instrument. &#8220;Mittie! why have you wrought yourself up to this terrible
+pitch of passion? Yet why do I ask? I know but too well. I uttered a few
+words of gallant seeming to your young sister, which sent her flying
+like a startled deer through the woods. Your reproaches completed the
+work my folly began. Between us<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> both we have frightened the poor child
+almost into spasms. Verily we have been much to blame.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Deceiver! you told her that you loved me no more. Deny it if you can.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I will neither assert nor deny any thing. If you have not sufficient
+confidence in my honor, and reliance on my truth to trust and believe
+me, my only answer to your reproaches shall be silence. Light indeed
+must be my hold on your heart, if a breath has power to shake it. The
+time has been&mdash;but, alas!&mdash;how sadly are you changed!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I changed!&#8221; repeated she. &#8220;Would to Heaven I could change!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, changed. Be not angry, but hear me. Where is the softness, the
+womanly tenderness and grace that first enchanted me, forming as it did
+so bewitching a contrast with the dazzling splendor of your beauty? I
+did not know then that daggers were sheathed in your brilliant eyes, or
+that scorn lurked in those beautiful lips. Nay, interrupt me not. Where,
+I say, is the loving, trusting being I loved and adored? You watch me
+with the vigilance of hatred, the intensity of revenge. Every word and
+look have been misconstrued, every action warped and perverted by
+prejudice and passion. You are jealous, frantically jealous of a mere
+child, with whom I idly amused myself one passing moment. You have made
+your parents look coldly and suspiciously upon me. You have taught me a
+bitter lesson.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Every drop of blood forsook the cheeks of Mittie. She felt as if she
+were congealing&mdash;so cold fell the words of Clinton on her burning heart.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then I have forever estranged you. You love me no longer!&#8221; said she, in
+a faint, husky voice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, Mittie, I love you still. Constancy is one of the elements of my
+nature. But love no longer imparts happiness. The chain of gold is
+transformed to iron, and the links corrode and lacerate the heart. I
+feel that I have cast a cloud over the household, and it is necessary to
+depart. I go to-morrow, and may you recover that peace of which I have
+momentarily deprived you. I shall pass away from your memory like the
+pebble that ruffles a moment the face of the water then sinks, and is
+remembered no more.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span>&#8220;What, going&mdash;going to-morrow?&#8221; she exclaimed, catching hold of his arm
+for support, for she felt sick and dizzy at the sudden annunciation.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes!&#8221; he replied, drawing her arm through his, and retaining her hand,
+which was as cold as ice. &#8220;Your brother Louis will accompany me. It is
+meet that he should visit my Virginian home, since I have so long
+trespassed on the hospitality of his. Whether I ever return depends upon
+yourself. If my presence bring only discord and sorrow, it is better,
+far better, that I never look upon your face again. If you cannot trust
+me, let us part forever.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They were now very near the house, very near a large tree, which had a
+rustic bench leaning against it. Its branches swept against the fence
+which enclosed Miss Thusa&#8217;s bleaching ground. The white arch of the
+bridge spanned the shadows that hung darkly over it. Mittie drew away
+her arm from Clinton and sank down upon the bench. She felt as if the
+roots of her heart were all drawing out, so intense was her anguish.</p>
+
+<p>Clinton going away&mdash;probably never to return&mdash;going, too, cold, altered
+and estranged. It was in vain he breathed to her words of love, the
+loving spirit, the vitality was wanting. And this was the dissolving of
+her wild dreams of love&mdash;of her fair visions of felicity. But the
+keenest pang was imparted by the conviction that it was her own fault.
+He had told her so, dispassionately and deliberately. It was her own
+evil temper that had disenchanted him. It was her own dark passions
+which had destroyed the spell her beauty had wrapped around him.</p>
+
+<p>What the warnings of a father, the admonitions of friends had failed to
+effect, a few words from the lips of Clinton had suddenly wrought. He
+had loved. He should love her once more&mdash;for she would be soft and
+gentle and womanly for his sake. She would be kind to Helen, and
+courteous to all. This flashing moment of introspection gave her a
+glimpse of her own heart which made her shudder. It was not, however,
+the sunlight of truth, growing brighter and brighter, that made the
+startling revelation; it was the lightning glare of excitement glancing
+into the dark abysses of passion, fiery and transitory, leaving behind a
+deeper, heavier gloom.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> Self-abased by the image on which she had been
+gazing, and subdued by the might of her grief, she covered her face with
+her hands and wept the bitterest tears that ever fell from the eyes of
+woman. They were drops of molten pride, hot and blistering, leaving the
+eyes blood-shot and dim. It was a strange thing to see the haughty
+Mittie weep. Clinton sat down beside her, and poured the oil of his
+smooth, seductive words on the troubled waves he had lashed into foam.
+Soft, low, and sad as the whispers of the autumn wind, his voice
+murmured in her ear, sad, for it breathed but of parting. She continued
+to weep, but her tears no longer flowed from the springs of agony.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mittie!&#8221; A sterner voice than that of Clinton&#8217;s breathed her name.
+&#8220;Mittie, you must come in, the night air is too damp.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was her father who spoke, of whose approach she was not aware. He
+spoke with an air of authority which he seldom assumed, and taking her
+hand, led her into the house.</p>
+
+<p>All the father was moved within him, at the sight of his daughter&#8217;s
+tears. It was the first time that he had seen them flow, or at least he
+never remembered to have seen her weep. She had not wept when a child,
+by the bed of a dying mother&mdash;(and the tears of childhood are usually an
+ever-welling spring)&mdash;she had not wept over her grave&mdash;and now her bosom
+was laboring with ill-suppressed sobs. What power had blasted the
+granite rock that covered the fountain of her sensibilities?</p>
+
+<p>He entreated her to confide in him, to tell him the cause of her
+anguish. If Clinton had been trifling with her happiness, he should not
+depart without feeling the weight of parental indignation.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No man dare to trifle with my happiness!&#8221; she exclaimed. &#8220;Clinton dare
+not do it. Reserve your indignation for real wrongs. Wait till I ask
+redress. Have I not a right to weep, if I choose? Helen may shed oceans
+of tears, without being called to account. All I ask, all I pray for, is
+to be left alone.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Thus the proud girl closed the avenues of sympathy and consolation, and
+shut herself up with her own corroding thoughts, for the transient
+feelings of humility and self-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span>abasement had passed away with the low,
+sweet echoes of the voice of Clinton, leaving nothing but the sullen
+memory of her grief. And yet the hope that he still loved her was the
+vital spark that sustained and warmed her. His last words breathed so
+much of his early tenderness and devotion, his manner possessed all its
+wonted fascination.</p>
+
+<p>A calm succeeded, if not peace.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">An ancient woman there was, who dwelt<br />
+<span class="i1">In an old gray collage all alone&mdash;</span><br />
+She turned her wheel the live long day&mdash;<br />
+<span class="i1">There was music, I ween, in its solemn drone.</span><br />
+As she twisted the flax, the threads of thought<br />
+<span class="i1">Kept twisting too, dark, mystic threads&mdash;</span><br />
+And the tales she told were legends old,<br />
+<span class="i1">Quaint fancies, woven of lights and shades.</span></p>
+
+
+<p class="firstpar"><span class="smcap">It</span> is said that absence is like death, and that through its softening
+shadow, faults, and even vices, assume a gentle and unforbidding aspect.
+But it is not so. Death, the prime minister of God, invests with solemn
+majesty the individual on whom he impresses his cold, white seal. The
+weakest, meanest being that ever drew the breath of life is
+awe-inspiring, wrapped in the mystery of death. It seems as if the
+invisible spirit might avenge the insult offered to its impassive,
+deserted companion. But absence has no such commanding power. If the
+mind has been enthralled by the influence of personal fascination, there
+is generally a sudden reaction. The judgment, liberated from captivity,
+exerts its newly recovered strength, and becomes more arbitrary and
+uncompromising for the bondage it has endured.</p>
+
+<p>Now Bryant Clinton was gone, Mr. Gleason wondered at his own
+infatuation. No longer spell-bound by the magic of his eye, and the
+alluring grace of his manners, he could recall a thousand circumstances
+which had previously made no impression on his mind. He blamed himself
+for allowing Louis to continue in such close intimacy with one, of whose
+parentage and early history he knew nothing. He blamed himself still
+more, for permitting his daughter such unrestricted intercourse with a
+young man so dangerously attractive. He blamed himself still more, for
+consenting to the departure of his son with a companion, in whose
+principles he did not confide, and of whose integrity he had many
+doubts.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> Why had he suffered this young man to wind around the household
+in smooth and shining coils, insinuating himself deeper and deeper into
+the heart, and binding closer and closer the faculties which might
+condemn, and the will that might resist his sorcery?</p>
+
+<p>He blushed one moment for his weakness, the next upbraided himself for
+the harshness of his judgment, for the uncharitableness of his
+conclusions. The first letter which he received from Louis, did not
+remove his apprehensions. He said Clinton had changed his plans. He did
+not intend to return immediately to Virginia, but to travel awhile
+first, and visit some friends, whom he had neglected for the charming
+home he had just quitted. Louis dwelt with eloquent diffuseness on the
+advantages of traveling with such a companion, of the fine opportunity
+he had of seeing something of the world, after leading the student&#8217;s
+monotonous and secluded life. Enclosed in this letter were bills of a
+large amount, contracted at college, of whose existence the father was
+perfectly unconscious. No reference was made to these, save in the
+postscript, most incoherent in expression, and written evidently with an
+unsteady hand. He begged his father to forgive him for having
+forgotten&mdash;the word <em>forgotten</em> was partially erased, and <em>neglected</em>
+substituted in its place&mdash;ah! Louis, Louis, you should have said
+<em>feared</em> to present to him before his departure. He threw himself upon
+the indulgence of a parent, who he knew would be as ready to pardon the
+errors, as he was able to understand the temptation to which youth was
+exposed, when deprived of parental guidance.</p>
+
+<p>The letter dropped from Mr. Gleason&#8217;s hand. A dark cloud gathered on his
+brow. A sharp pain darted through his heart. His son, his ingenuous,
+noble, high-minded boy had deceived him&mdash;betrayed his confidence, and
+wasted, with the recklessness of a spendthrift, money to which he had no
+legitimate claims.</p>
+
+<p>When Louis entered college, and during the whole course of his education
+there, Mr. Gleason had defrayed his necessary expenses, and supplied him
+liberally with spending money.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Keep out of debt, my son,&#8221; was his constant advice. &#8220;In every
+unexpected emergency apply to me. Debt un<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span>necessarily recurred is both
+dishonorable and disgraceful. When a boy contracts debts unknown to his
+parents, they are associated with shame and ruin. Beware of temptation.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Gleason was not rich. He was engaged in merchandise, and had an
+income sufficient for the support of his family, sufficient to supply
+every want, and gratify every wish within the bounds of reason; but he
+had nothing to throw away, nothing to scatter broadcast beneath the
+ploughshare of ruin. He did not believe that Louis had fallen into
+disobedience and error without a guide in sin. Like Eve, he had been
+beguiled by a serpent, and he had eaten of the fruit of the tree of
+forbidden knowledge, whose taste</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Brought death into the world,<br />
+And all our woe!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>That serpent must be Clinton, that Lucifer, that son of the morning,
+that seeming angel of light. Thus, in the excitement of his anger, he
+condemned the young man, who, after all, might be innocent of all guile,
+and free from all transgression.</p>
+
+<p>Crushing the papers in his hand, he saw a line which had escaped his eye
+before. It was this&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="blockquot">&#8220;I cannot tell you where to address me, as we are now on the wing.
+I shall write again soon.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So he places himself beyond the reach of admonition and recall,&#8221;
+thought Mr. Gleason. &#8220;Oh! Louis, had your mother lived, how would her
+heart have been wrung by the knowledge of your aberration from
+rectitude! And how will the kind and noble being who fills that mother&#8217;s
+place in our affections and home, mourn over her weak and degenerate
+boy.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Yes! she did mourn, but not without hope. She had too much faith in the
+integrity of Louis to believe him capable of deliberate transgression.
+She knew his ardent temperament his convivial spirit, and did not think
+it strange that he should be led into temptation. He must not withdraw
+his confidence, because it had been once betrayed. Neither would she
+suffer so dark a cloud of suspicion to rest upon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> Clinton. It was unjust
+to suspect him, when he was surrounded by so many young, and doubtless,
+evil companions. She regretted Clinton&#8217;s sojourn among them, since it
+had had so unhappy an influence on Mittie, but it was cowardly to plunge
+a dagger into the back of one on whose face their hospitable smiles had
+so lately beamed. We have said that she had a small property of her own.
+She insisted upon drawing on this for the amount necessary to settle the
+bills of Louis. She had reserved it for the children&#8217;s use, and perhaps
+when Louis was made aware of the source whence pecuniary assistance
+came, he would blush for the drain, and shame would restrain him from
+future extravagance. Mr. Gleason listened, hoped and believed. The cloud
+lighted up, and if it did not entirely pass away, glimpses of sunshine
+were seen breaking through.</p>
+
+<p>And this was the woman whom Mittie disdained to honor with the title of
+<em>mother</em>!</p>
+
+<p>Helen had recovered from the double shock she had received the night
+previous to Clinton&#8217;s departure, but she was not the same Helen that she
+was before. Her childhood was gone. The flower leaves of her heart
+unfolded, not by the soft, genial sunshine, but torn open by the
+whirlwind&#8217;s power. Never more could she meet Arthur Hazleton with the
+innocent freedom which had made their intercourse so delightful. If he
+took her hand, she trembled and withdrew it. If she met his eye, she
+blushed and turned away her glance&mdash;that eye, which though it flashed
+not with the fires of passion, had such depth, and strength, and
+intensity in its expression. Her embarrassment was contagious, and
+constraint and reserve took the place of confidence and ingenuousness;
+like the semi-transparent drapery over a beautiful picture, which
+suffers the lineaments to be traced, while the warm coloring and
+brightness of life are chilled and obscured.</p>
+
+<p>The sisters were as much estranged as if they were the inmates of
+different abodes. Mrs. Gleason had prepared a room for Helen adjoining
+her own, resolved she should be removed as far as possible from Mittie&#8217;s
+dagger tongue. Thus Mittie was left to the solitude she courted, and
+which no one seemed disposed to disturb. She remained the most of her
+time in her own chamber, seldom joining the family<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> except at table,
+where she appeared more like a stranger than a daughter or a sister. She
+seemed to take no interest in any thing around her, nor did she seek to
+inspire any. She looked paler than formerly, and a purplish shade dimmed
+the brilliancy of her dazzling eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You look pale, my daughter,&#8221; her father would sometimes say. &#8220;I fear
+you are not well.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am perfectly well,&#8221; she would answer, with a manner so cold and
+distant, sympathy was at once repelled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Will you not sit with us?&#8221; Mrs. Gleason would frequently ask, as she
+and Helen drew near the blazing fire, with their work-baskets or books,
+for winter was now abroad in the land. &#8220;Will you not read to us, or with
+us?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I prefer being in my own room,&#8221; was the invariable answer; and usually
+at night, when the curtains were let down, and the lamps lighted in the
+apartment, warm and glowing with the genialities and comforts of home,
+the young doctor would come in and occupy Mittie&#8217;s vacant seat.
+Notwithstanding the comparative coldness and reserve of Helen&#8217;s manners,
+his visits became more and more frequent. He seemed reconciled to the
+loss of the ingenuous, confiding child, since he had found in its stead
+the growing charms of womanhood.</p>
+
+<p>Arthur was a fine reader. His voice had that minor key which touches the
+chords of tenderness and feeling&mdash;that voice so sweet at the fireside,
+so adapted to poetry and all deep and earnest thoughts. He did not read
+on like a machine, without pausing to make remark or criticism, but his
+beautiful, eloquent commentaries came in like the symphonies of an
+organ. He drew forth the latent enthusiasm of Helen, who, forgetting
+herself and Mittie&#8217;s withering accusations, expressed her sentiments
+with a grace, simplicity and fervor peculiar to herself. At the
+commencement of the evening she generally took her sewing from the
+basket, and her needle would flash and fly like a shooting arrow, but
+gradually her hands relaxed, the work fell into her lap, and yielding to
+the combined charms of genius and music, the divine music of the human
+voice, she gave herself up completely to the rapture of drinking in</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Those silver sounds, so soft, so dear,<br />
+The listener held her breath to hear.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>If Arthur lifted his eyes from the page, which he had a habit of doing,
+he was sure to encounter a glance of bright intelligence and thrilling
+sensibility, instantaneously withdrawn, and then he often lost his
+place, skipped over a paragraph, or read the same sentence a second
+time, while that rich mantling glow, so seldom seen on the cheek of
+manhood, stole slowly over his face.</p>
+
+<p>These were happy evenings, and Helen could have exclaimed with little
+Frank in the primer, &#8220;Oh! that winter would last forever!&#8221; And yet there
+were times when she as well as her parents was oppressed with a weight
+of anxious sorrow that was almost insupportable, on account of Louis. He
+came not, he wrote not&mdash;and the only letter received from him had
+excited the most painful apprehensions for his moral safety. It
+contained shameful records of his past deviations from rectitude, and
+judging of the present by the past, they had every reason to fear that
+he had become an alien from virtue and home. Mr. Gleason seldom spoke of
+him, but his long fits of abstraction, the gloom of his brow, and the
+inquietude of his eye, betrayed the anxiety and grief rankling within.</p>
+
+<p>Helen knew not the contents of her brother&#8217;s letter, nor the secret
+cause of grief that preyed on her father&#8217;s mind, but his absence and
+silence were trials over which she openly and daily mourned with deep
+and increasing sorrow.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We shall hear from him to-morrow. He will come to-morrow.&#8221; This was the
+nightly lullaby to her disappointed and murmuring heart.</p>
+
+<p>Mittie likewise repeated to herself the same refrain &#8220;He will come
+to-morrow. He will write to-morrow.&#8221; But it was not of Louis that the
+prophecy was breathed. It was of another, who had become the one
+thought.</p>
+
+<p>Helen had not forgotten her old friend Miss Thusa, whom the rigors of
+winter confined more closely than ever to her lonely cabin. Almost every
+day she visited her, and even if the ground were covered with snow, and
+icicles hung from the trees, there was a path through the woods, printed
+with fairy foot-tracks, that showed where Helen had walked. Mr. Gleason
+supplied the solitary spinster with wood ready out for the hearth, had
+her cottage banked with dark red<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> tan, and furnished her with many
+comforts and luxuries. He never forgot her devoted attachment to his
+dead wife, who had commended to his care and kindness the lone woman on
+her dying bed. Mrs. Gleason frequently accompanied Helen in her visits,
+and as Miss Thusa said, &#8220;always came with full hands and left a full
+heart behind her.&#8221; Helen sometimes playfully asked her to tell her the
+history of the wheel so long promised, but she put her off with a shake
+of the head, saying&mdash;&#8220;she should hear it by and by, when the right time
+was at hand.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But when is the right time, Miss Thusa?&#8221; asked Helen. &#8220;I begin to think
+it is to-morrow.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To-morrow never comes,&#8221; replied Miss Thusa, solemnly, &#8220;but death does.
+When his footsteps cross the old stile and tramp over the mossy
+door-stones, I&#8217;ll tell you all about that ancient machine. It won&#8217;t do
+any good till then. You are too young yet. I feel better than I did in
+autumn, and may last longer than I thought I should&mdash;but, perhaps, when
+the ground thaws in the spring the old tree will loosen and fall&mdash;or
+break off suddenly near the root. I have seen such things in my day.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh! Miss Thusa,&#8221; said Helen, &#8220;I never want to hear any thing about it,
+if its history is to be bought so dear&mdash;indeed I do not.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Only if you should marry, child, before I die,&#8221; continued Miss Thusa,
+musingly, &#8220;you shall know then. It is not very probable that such will
+be the case; but it is astonishing how young girls shoot up into
+womanhood, now-a-days.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It will be a long time before I shall think of marrying, Miss Thusa,&#8221;
+answered Helen, laughing. &#8220;I believe I will live as you do, in a cottage
+of my own, with my wheel for companion and familiar friend.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is not such as you that are born to live alone,&#8221; said the spinster,
+passing her hand lovingly over Helen&#8217;s fair, warm cheek. &#8220;You are a
+love-vine that must have something to grow upon. No, no&mdash;don&#8217;t talk in
+that way. It don&#8217;t sound natural. It don&#8217;t come from the heart. Now <em>I</em>
+was made to be by myself. I never saw the man I wanted to live one day
+with&mdash;much less all the days of my life. They may say this is sour
+grapes, and call me an old maid,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> but I don&#8217;t care for that; I must have
+my own way, and I know it is a strange one; and there never was a man
+created that didn&#8217;t want to have his. You laugh, child. I hope you will
+never find it out to your cost. But you havn&#8217;t any will of your own; so
+it will be all as it should be, after all.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, yes I have, Miss Thusa; I like to have my own way as well as any
+one&mdash;when I think I am right.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What makes your cheeks redden so, and your heart flutter like a bird
+caught in a snare?&#8221; cried the spinster, looking thoughtfully, almost
+sorrowfully, into Helen&#8217;s soft, loving, hazel eyes. &#8220;<em>That step</em> doesn&#8217;t
+cross my threshold so often for nothing. You would know it in an army of
+ten thousand.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The door opened and Arthur Hazleton entered. The day was cold, and a
+comfortable fire blazed in the chimney. The fire-beams that were
+reflected from Helen&#8217;s glowing cheek might account for its burning rose,
+for it even gave a warmer tint to Miss Thusa&#8217;s dark, gray form. Arthur
+drew his chair near Helen, who as usual occupied a little stool in the
+corner.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What magnificent strings of coral you have, Miss Thusa?&#8221; said he,
+looking up to a triple garland of red peppers, strung on some of her own
+unbleached linen thread, and suspended over the fire-place. &#8220;I suppose
+they are more for ornament than use.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I never had any thing for ornament in my life,&#8221; said Miss Thusa. &#8220;I
+supply the whole neighborhood with peppers; and I do think a drink of
+pepper tea helps one powerfully to bear the winter&#8217;s cold.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I think I must make you my prime minister, Miss Thusa,&#8221; said the young
+doctor, &#8220;for I scarcely ever visit a patient, that I don&#8217;t find some
+traces of your benevolence, in the shape of balmy herbs and medicinal
+shrubs. How much good one can do in the world if they only think of it!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is little good that I&#8217;ve ever done,&#8221; cried the spinster. &#8220;All my
+comfort is that I havn&#8217;t done a great deal of harm.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Opening the door of a closet, at the right of the chimney, she stooped
+to lift a log of wood, but Arthur springing up,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> anticipated her
+movement, and replenished the already glowing hearth.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You keep glorious fires, Miss Thusa,&#8221; said he, retreating from the hot
+sparkles that came showering on the hearth, and the magnificent blaze
+that roared grandly up the chimney.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is <em>her</em> father that sends me the wood&mdash;and if it isn&#8217;t his daughter
+that is warmed by my fire-side, let the water turn to ice on these
+bricks.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And now, Miss Thusa,&#8221; said the young doctor, &#8220;while we are enjoying
+this hospitable warmth, tell us one of those good old-fashioned stories,
+Helen used to love so much to hear. It is a long time since I have heard
+one&mdash;and I am sure Helen will thank me for the suggestion.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I ought to be at my wheel, instead of fooling with my tongue,&#8221; replied
+Miss Thusa, jerking her spectacles down on the bridge of her nose. &#8220;I
+shan&#8217;t earn the salt of my porridge at this rate; besides there&#8217;s too
+much light; somehow or other, I never could feel like reciting them in
+broad daylight. There must be a sort of a shadow, to make me inspired.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Please Miss Thusa, oblige the doctor this time,&#8221; pleaded Helen. &#8220;I&#8217;ll
+come and spin all day to-morrow for you, and send you a sack of salt
+beside.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Set a kitten to spinning!&#8221; exclaimed Miss Thusa, her grim features
+relaxing into a smile&mdash;putting at the same time her wheel against the
+wall, and seating herself in the corner opposite to Helen.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thank you,&#8221; cried Helen, &#8220;I knew you would not refuse. Now please tell
+us something gentle and beautiful&mdash;something that will make us better
+and happier. Ghosts, you know, never appear till darkness comes. The
+angels do.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Thusa, sat looking into the fire, with a musing, dreamy expression,
+or rather on the ashes, which formed a gray bed around the burning
+coals. Her thoughts were, however, evidently wandering inward, through
+the dim streets and shadowy aisles of that Herculaneum of the
+soul&mdash;memory.</p>
+
+<p>Arthur laid his hand with an admonishing motion on Helen, whose lips
+parted to speak, and the trio sat in silence<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> for a few moments, waiting
+the coming inspiration. It has been so often said that we do not like to
+repeat the expression, but it really would have been a study for a
+painter&mdash;that old, gray room (for the walls being unpainted were of the
+color of Miss Thusa&#8217;s dress;) the antique, brass-bound wheel, the
+scarlet tracery over the chimney, and the three figures illuminated by
+the flame-light of the blazing chimney. It played, that flame-light,
+with rich, warm lustre on Helen&#8217;s soft, brown hair and roseate cheek,
+quivered with purplish radiance among Arthur&#8217;s darker locks&mdash;and lighted
+up with a sunset glow, Miss Thusa&#8217;s hoary tresses.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Gentle and beautiful!&#8221; repeated the oracle. &#8220;Yes! every thing seems
+beautiful to the young. If I could remember ever feeling young, I dare
+say beautiful memories would come back to me. &#8217;Tis very strange, though,
+that the older I grow, the pleasanter are the pictures that are
+reflected on my mind. The way grows smoother and clearer. I suppose it
+is like going out on a dark night&mdash;at first you can hardly see the hand
+before you, but as you go groping along, it lightens up more and more.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She paused, looked from Arthur Hazleton to Helen, then from Helen to
+Arthur, as if she were endeavoring to embue her spirit with the grace
+and beauty of youth.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I remember a tale,&#8221; she resumed, &#8220;which I heard or read, long, long
+ago&mdash;which perhaps I&#8217;ve never told. It is about a young Prince, who was
+heir to a great kingdom, somewhere near the place where the garden of
+Eden once was. When the King, his father, was on his death bed, he
+called his son to him, and told him that he was going to die.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;And now, my son,&#8217; he said, &#8216;remember my parting words. I leave you all
+alone, without father or mother, brother or sister&mdash;without any one to
+love or love you. Last night I had a dream, and you know God&#8217;s will was
+made known in dreams, to holy men of old. There came, in my dream, an
+aged man, with a beard as white as ermine, that hung down like a mantle
+over his breast, with a wand in his right hand, and stood beside my bed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Hear my words,&#8217; he exclaimed, in a solemn voice, &#8216;and tell them to
+your son. When you are dead and gone, let him gird himself for a long
+pilgrimage. If he stay here, he will<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> be turned into a marble statue. To
+avert this doom, he must travel through the world till he finds a young
+maiden&#8217;s warm, living heart&mdash;and the maiden must be fair and good, and
+be willing to let the knife enter her bosom, and her heart be taken
+bleeding thence. And then he must travel farther still, till a white
+dove shall come from the East, and fold its wings on his breast. If you
+would save your kingdom and your son, command him to do this. It is the
+will of the Most High.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The old man departed, but his words echoed like thunder in my ears.
+Obey him, my son, the vision came from above.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The young Prince saw his father laid in the tomb, then prepared himself
+for his pilgrimage. He did not like the idea of being turned into
+marble, neither did he like the thought of taking the heart of a young
+and innocent maiden, if he should find one willing to make the
+offering&mdash;which he did not believe. The Prince had a bright eye and a
+light step, and he was dressed in brave attire. The maidens looked out
+of the windows as he passed along, and the young men sighed with envy.
+He came to a great palace, and being a King&#8217;s son, he thought he had a
+right to enter it; and there he saw a young and beautiful lady, all
+shining with diamonds and pearls. There was a great feast waiting in the
+hall, and she asked him to stay, and pressed him to eat and drink, and
+gave him many glasses of wine, as red as rubies. After the feast was
+over, and he felt most awfully as he did it, he begged for her heart,
+the tears glittering in his eyes for sorrow. She smiled, and told him it
+was already his&mdash;but&mdash;when with a shaking hand he took a knife, and
+aimed it at her breast, she screamed and rushed out of the hall, as if
+the evil one was behind her&mdash;Don&#8217;t interrupt me, child&mdash;don&#8217;t&mdash;I shall
+forget it all if you do. Well, the Prince went on his way, thinking the
+old man had sent him on a fool&#8217;s errand&mdash;but he dared not disobey his
+dead father, seeing he was a King. It would take me from sun to sun to
+tell of all the places where he stopped, and of all the screaming and
+threatening that followed him wherever he went. It is a wonder he did
+not turn deaf as an adder. At last he got very tired and sorrowful, and
+sat down by the wayside and wept, thinking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> he would rather turn to
+marble at once, than live by such a horrible remedy. He saw a little
+cabin close by, but he had hardly strength to reach it, and he thought
+he would stay there and die.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;What makes you weep?&#8217; said a voice so sweet he thought it was music
+itself, and looking up, he saw a young maiden, who had come up a path
+behind him, with a pitcher of water on her head. She was beautiful and
+fair to look upon, though her dress was as plain as could be. She
+offered him water to drink, and told him if he would go with her to the
+little cabin, her mother would give him something to eat, and a bed to
+lie upon, for the night dew was beginning to fall. He had not on his
+fine dress at this time, having changed it for that of a young peasant,
+thinking perhaps he would succeed better in disguise. So he followed her
+steps, and they gave him milk, and bread, and honey, and a nice bed to
+sleep upon, though it was somewhat hard and coarse. And there he fell
+sick, and they nursed him day after day, and brought him back to health.
+The young maiden grew more lovely in his eye, and her voice sounded more
+and more sweet in his ear. Sometimes he thought of the sacrifice he was
+to ask, but he could not do it. No, he would die first. One night, the
+old man with the long, white beard, came in his dream, to his bedside.
+He looked dark and frowning.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;This is the maiden,&#8217; he cried, &#8216;your pilgrimage is ended here. Do as
+thou art bidden, and then depart.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;When the morning came, he was pale and sad, and the young girl was pale
+and sad from sympathy. Then the Prince knelt down at her feet, and told
+her the history of his father&#8217;s dream and his own, and of his exceeding
+great and bitter sorrow. He wept, but the maiden smiled, and she looked
+like an angel with that sweet smile on her face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;My heart is yours,&#8217; she said, &#8216;I give it willingly and cheerfully.
+Drain from it every drop of blood, if you will&mdash;I care not, so it save
+<em>you</em> from perishing.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then the eyes of the young Prince shone out like the sun after a storm,
+and drawing his dagger from his bosom, he&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Stop, Miss Thusa&mdash;don&#8217;t go on,&#8221; interrupted Helen, pale with emotion.
+&#8220;I cannot bear to hear it. It is too<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> awful. I asked you for something
+beautiful, and you have chosen the most terrible theme. Don&#8217;t finish
+it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is there not something beautiful,&#8221; said the young doctor, bending down,
+and addressing her in a low voice&mdash;&#8220;is there not something beautiful in
+such pure and self-sacrificing love? Is there no chord in your heart
+that thrills responsive as you listen? Oh, Helen&mdash;I am sure <em>you</em> could
+devote yourself for one you loved.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, yes!&#8221; she answered, forgetting, in her excitement, all her natural
+timidity. &#8220;I could do it joyfully, glorying in the sacrifice. But he, so
+selfish, so cruel, so sanguinary&mdash;it is from him I shrink. His heart is
+already marble&mdash;it cannot change.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wait, child&mdash;wait till you hear the end,&#8221; cried Miss Thusa, inspired by
+the effect of her words. &#8220;He drew a dagger from his bosom, and was about
+to plunge it in his <em>own</em> heart, and die at her feet, when the old man
+of his dream entered and caught hold of his arm.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;&#8217;Tis enough,&#8217; he cried. &#8216;The trial is over. She has given you her
+heart, her warm, living heart&mdash;take it and cherish it. Without love, man
+turns to stone&mdash;and thus becomes a marble statue. You have proved your
+own love and hers, since you are willing to die for each other. Put up
+your dagger, and if you ever wound that heart of hers, the vengeance of
+Heaven rest upon you.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thus saying, he departed, but strange to tell, as he was speaking, his
+face was all the time growing younger and fairer, his white beard
+gradually disappeared, and as he went through the door, a pair of white
+wings, tipped with gold, began to flutter on his shoulders. Then they
+knew it was an angel that had been with them, and they bowed themselves
+down to the floor and trembled. Is there any need of my telling you,
+that the Prince married the young maiden, and carried her to his
+kingdom, and set her on his throne? Is there any need of my saying how
+beautiful she looked, with a golden crown on her head, and a golden
+chain on her neck, and how meek and good she was all the time, in spite
+of her finery? No, I am sure there isn&#8217;t. Now, I must go to spinning.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That <em>is</em> beautiful!&#8221; cried Helen, the color coming back<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> to her
+cheeks, &#8220;but the white dove, Miss Thusa, that was to fold its wings on
+his bosom. You have forgotten that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Have I? Yes&mdash;yes. Sure enough, I am getting old and forgetful. The
+white dove that was to come from the east! I remember it all now:&mdash;After
+he had reigned awhile he dreamed again that he was commanded to go in
+quest of the dove, and take his young Queen with him. They were to go on
+foot as pilgrims, and leave all their pomp and state behind them, with
+their faces towards the east, and their eyes lifted to Heaven. While
+they were journeying on, the young Queen began to languish, and grow
+pale and wan. At last she sunk down at his feet, and told him that she
+was going to die, and leave him alone in his pilgrimage. The young King
+smote his breast, and throwing himself down by her side, prayed to God
+that he might die too. Then she comforted him, and told him to live for
+his people, and bow to the will of the Most High.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;You were willing to die for me,&#8217; she cried, &#8216;show greater love by
+being willing to live when I am gone&mdash;love to God and me.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;The will of God be done,&#8217; he exclaimed, prostrating himself before the
+Lord. Then a soft flutter was heard above his head, and a beautiful
+white dove flew into his bosom. At the same time an angel appeared, whom
+he knew was the old man of his dream, all glorified as it were, and the
+moment he breathed on her, the dying Queen revived and smiled on her
+husband, just as she did in her mother&#8217;s cabin.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;You were willing to give your own life for hers,&#8217; said the angel to
+the young King, &#8216;and that was love. You were willing to give her up to
+God, and that was greater love to a greater being. Thou hast been
+weighed in the balance and not found wanting. Return and carry in thy
+bosom the milk-white dove, and never let it flee from thy dwelling.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The angel went up into Heaven&mdash;the young King and Queen returned to
+their palace, where they had a long, happy, and godly reign.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The logs in the chimney had burned down to a bed of mingled scarlet and
+jet, that threw out a still more intense heat, and the sun had rolled
+down the west, leaving a bed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> of scarlet behind it, while Miss Thusa
+related the history of the young Prince of the East.</p>
+
+<p>Helen, in the intensity of her interest, had forgotten the gliding
+hours, and wondered where the day had flown.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I think if you related me such stories, Miss Thusa, every day,&#8221; said
+the young doctor, &#8220;I should be a wiser and better man. I shall not
+forget this soon.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I do not believe I shall tell another story as long as I live,&#8221; replied
+she, shaking her head oracularly. &#8220;I had to exert myself powerfully to
+remember and put that together as I wanted to. Well, well&mdash;all the gifts
+of God are only loans after all, and He has a right to take them away
+whenever He chooses. We mustn&#8217;t murmur and complain about it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dear Miss Thusa, this is the best story you ever told,&#8221; cried Helen,
+while she muffled herself for her cold, evening walk. &#8220;There is
+something so touching in its close&mdash;and the moral sinks deep in the
+heart. No, no; I hope to hear a hundred more at least, like this. I am
+glad you have given up ghosts for angels.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The wind blew in strong, wintry gusts, as they passed through the
+leafless woods. Helen shivered with cold, in spite of the warm garments
+that sheltered her. The scarlet of the horizon had faded into a chill,
+darkening gray, and as they moved through the shadows, they were
+scarcely distinguishable themselves from the trees whose dry branches
+creaked above their heads. Arthur folded his cloak around Helen to
+protect her from the inclemency of the air, and the warmth of summer
+stole into her heart. They talked of Miss Thusa, of the story she had
+told, of its interest and its moral, and Arthur said he would be willing
+to make a pilgrimage to Mecca, over burning coals, for such a heart as
+the maiden offered to the young Prince. That very heart was throbbing
+close, very close to his, but its deep emotions found no utterance
+through the lips. Helen remarked that she would willingly travel with
+bleeding feet from end to end of the universe, for the beautiful white
+dove, which was the emblem of God&#8217;s holy spirit.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Helen, that dove is nestling in your bosom already,&#8221; cried Arthur
+Hazleton; &#8220;but the heart I sigh for, will it indeed ever be mine?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span>Helen could not answer, for she dared not interpret the words which,
+though addressed to herself, might have reference to another. With the
+humility and self-depreciation usually the accompaniment of deep
+reverence and devotion, she could not believe it possible that one so
+exalted in intellect, so noble in character, so beloved and honored by
+all who knew him, so much older than herself; one, too, who knew all her
+weaknesses and faults, could ever look upon her otherwise than with
+brotherly kindness and regard. Then she contrasted his manner with that
+of Clinton, for his were the only love-words that ever were breathed
+into her ear, and she was sure that if Clinton&#8217;s was the language of
+love, Arthur&#8217;s was that of friendship only. Perhaps her silence chilled,
+it certainly hushed the expression of his thoughts, for he spoke not
+till they reached the threshold of her home. The bright light gleaming
+through the blinds, showed them how dark it had grown abroad since they
+left Miss Thusa&#8217;s cottage. Helen was conscious then how very slowly they
+must have walked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thank you,&#8221; said she, releasing herself from the sheltering folds that
+had enveloped her. &#8220;Hark!&#8221; she suddenly exclaimed, &#8220;whose voice is that
+I hear within? It is&mdash;it must be Louis. Dear, dear Louis!&mdash;so long
+absent!&mdash;so anxiously looked for!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Even in that moment of joy, while bounding over the threshold with the
+fleetness of a fawn, the dreaded form of Clinton rose before the eye of
+her imagination, and arrested for a moment her flying steps. Again she
+heard the voice of Louis, and Clinton was forgotten.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Go, sin no more! Thy penance o&#8217;er,<br />
+A new and better life begin!<br />
+God maketh thee forever free<br />
+From the dominion of thy sin!<br />
+Go, sin no more! He will restore<br />
+The peace that filled thy heart before,<br />
+And pardon thine iniquity.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Longfellow.</cite></p>
+
+
+<p class="firstpar">&#8220;I am glad you came <em>alone</em>, brother,&#8221; cried Helen, when, after the
+supper was over, they all drew around the blazing hearth. Louis turned
+abruptly towards her, and as the strong firelight fell full upon his
+face, she was shocked even more than at first, with his altered
+appearance. The bloom, the brightness, the joyousness of youth were
+gone, leaving in their stead, paleness, and dimness, and gloom. He
+looked several years older than when he left home, but his was not the
+maturity of the flower, but its premature wilting. There was a worm in
+the calyx, preying on the vitality of the blossom, and withering up its
+beauty.</p>
+
+<p>Yes! Louis had been feeding on the husks of dissipation, though in his
+father&#8217;s house there was food enough and to spare. He had been selling
+his immortal birth-right for that which man has in common with the
+brutes that perish, and the reptiles that crawl in the dust. Slowly,
+reluctantly at first, had he stepped into the downward path, looking
+back with agonies of remorse to the smooth, green, flowery plains he had
+left behind, striving to return, but driven forward by the gravitating
+power of sin. The passionate resolutions he formed from day to day of
+amendment, were broken, like the light twigs that grow by the mountain
+wayside.</p>
+
+<p>He had looked upon the wine when it was red, and found in its dregs the
+sting of the adder. He had participated in the maddening excitement of
+the gaming-table, from which remorse and horror pursued him with
+scorpion lash. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> had entered the &#8220;chambers of death&#8221;&mdash;though avenging
+demons guarded its threshold. Poor, tempted Louis! poor, fallen Louis!
+In how short a space has the whiteness of thy innocence been sullied,
+the glory of thy promise been obscured! But the flame fed by oxygen soon
+wastes away by its own intensity, and ardent passions once kindled, burn
+with self-consuming rapidity.</p>
+
+<p>We have not followed Louis in his wild and reckless course since he left
+his father&#8217;s mansion. It was too painful to witness the degeneracy of
+our early favorite. But the whole history of the past was written on his
+haggard brow and pallid cheek. It need not be recorded here. He had
+thought himself a life-long alien from the home he had disgraced, for
+never could he encounter his father&#8217;s indignant frown, or call up the
+blush of shame on Helen&#8217;s spotless cheek.</p>
+
+<p>But one of those mighty drawings of the spirit&mdash;stronger than chains of
+triple steel&mdash;that thirst of the heart for pure domestic joy, which the
+foaming goblet can never quench&mdash;that immortal longing which rises up
+from the lowest abysses of sin, that yearning for pardon which stirred
+the bosom of the Hebrew prodigal, constrained the transgressing Louis to
+burst asunder the bonds of iniquity, and return to his father&#8217;s house.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am glad you have come alone, brother,&#8221; repeated Helen, repressing the
+sigh that quivered on her lips.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who did you expect would be my companion?&#8221; asked Louis, putting back
+the long, neglected locks, that fell darkly over his temples.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I feared Bryant Clinton would return with you,&#8221; replied Helen,
+regretting the next moment that she had uttered a name which seemed to
+have the effect of galvanism on Mittie&mdash;who started spasmodically, and
+lifted the screen before her face. No one had asked for Clinton, yet all
+had been thinking of him more or less.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have not seen him for several weeks,&#8221; he replied, &#8220;he had business
+that called him in another direction, but he will probably be here
+soon.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Again Mittie gave a spasmodic start, and held the screen closer to her
+face. Helen sighed, and looked anxiously to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span>wards her mother. The
+announcement excited very contradictory emotions.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you mean to imply that he is coming again as the guest of your
+parents, as the inmate of this home?&#8221; asked Mr. Gleason, sternly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, sir,&#8221; replied Louis, a red streak flashing across his face. &#8220;How
+could it be otherwise?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But it <em>shall</em> be otherwise,&#8221; exclaimed Mr. Gleason, rising abruptly
+from his chair, and speaking with a vehemence so unwonted that it
+inspired awe. &#8220;That young man shall never again, with my consent, sit
+down at my board, or sleep under my roof. I believe him a false,
+unprincipled, dangerous companion&mdash;whom my doors shall never more be
+opened to receive. Had it not been for him, that pale, stone-like,
+petrified girl, might have been brilliant and blooming, yet. Had it not
+been for him, I should not have the anguish, the humiliation, the shame
+of seeing my son, my only son, the darling of his dead mother&#8217;s heart,
+the pride and hope of mine, a blighted being, shorn of the brightness of
+youth, and the glory of advancing manhood. Talk not to me of bringing
+the destroyer here. This fireside shall never more be darkened by his
+presence.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Gleason paused, but from his eye, fixed steadfastly on Louis, the
+long sleeping lightning darted. Mittie, who had sprung from her chair
+while her father was speaking, stood with white cheeks and parted lips,
+and eyes from which fire seemed to coruscate, gazing first at him, and
+then at her brother.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Father,&#8221; cried Louis, &#8220;you wrong him. My sins and transgressions are my
+own. Mountain high as they are, they shall not crush another. Mine is
+the sorrow and guilt, and mine be the penalty. I do not extenuate my own
+offences, but I will not criminate others. I beseech you, sir, to recall
+what you have just uttered, for how can I close those doors upon a
+friend, which have so lately been opened for him with ungrudging
+hospitality?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mittie&#8217;s countenance lighted up with an indescribable expression. She
+caught her brother&#8217;s hand, and pressing it in both hers, exclaimed&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nobly said, Louis. He who can hear an absent friend<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> defamed, without
+defending him, is worthy of everlasting scorn.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>But Helen, terrified at the outburst of her father&#8217;s anger, and
+overwhelmed with grief for her brother&#8217;s humiliation, bowed her head and
+wept in silence.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Gleason turned his eyes, where the lightning still gleamed, from
+Louis to Mittie, as if trying to read her inscrutable countenance.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Tell me, Mittie,&#8221; he cried, &#8220;the whole length and breadth of the
+interest you have in this young man. I have suffered you to elude this
+subject too long. I have borne with your proud and sullen reserve too
+long. I have been weak and irresolute in times past, but thoroughly
+aroused to a sense of my authority and responsibility as a father, as
+well as my duty as a man, I command you to tell me all that has passed
+between you and Bryant Clinton. Has he proffered you marriage? Has he
+exchanged with you the vows of betrothal? Have you gone so far without
+my knowledge or approval?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I cannot answer such questions, sir,&#8221; she haughtily replied, the hot
+blood rushing into her face and filling her forehead veins with purple.
+&#8220;You have no right to ask them in this presence. There are some subjects
+too sacred for investigation, and this is one. There are limits even to
+a father&#8217;s authority, and I protest against its encroachments.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Those who are slow to arouse to anger are slow to be appeased. The flame
+that is long in kindling generally burns with long enduring heat. Mr.
+Gleason had borne, with unexampled patience, Mittie&#8217;s strange and
+wayward temper. For the sake of family peace he had sacrificed his own
+self-respect, which required deference and obedience in a child. But
+having once broken the spell which had chained his tongue, and meeting a
+resisting will, his own grew stronger and more determined.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you dare thus to reply to <em>me</em>, your father?&#8221; cried he; &#8220;you will
+find there are limits to a father&#8217;s indulgence, too. Trifle not with my
+anger, but give me the answer I require.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Never, sir, never,&#8221; cried she, with a mien as undaunted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> as Charlotte
+Corday&#8217;s, that &#8220;angel of assassination,&#8221; when arraigned before the
+tribunal of justice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Did you never hear of a discarded child?&#8221; said he, his voice sinking
+almost to a whisper, it was so choked with passion.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, sir.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And do you not fear such a doom?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, sir.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My husband,&#8221; exclaimed Mrs. Gleason, laying her hand imploringly on his
+shoulder, &#8220;be calm. Seek not by violence to break the stubborn will
+which kindness cannot bend. Let not our fireside be a scene of domestic
+contention, which we shall blush to recall. Leave her to the dark and
+sullen secrecy she prefers to our tenderness and sympathy. And, one
+thing I beseech you, my husband, suspend your judgment of the character
+of Clinton till Louis is able to explain all that is doubtful and
+mysterious. He is weary now, and needs rest instead of excitement.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was magic in the touch of that gentle hand, in the tones of that
+persuasive voice. The father&#8217;s stern brow relaxed, and a cloud of the
+deepest sadness extinguished the fiery anger of his glance. The cloud
+condensed and melted away in tears. Helen saw them, though he turned
+away, and shaded his face with his hand, and putting her arms round him,
+she kissed the hand which hung loosely at his side. This act, so tender
+and respectful, touched him to the heart&#8217;s core.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My child, my darling, my own sweet Helen,&#8221; he cried, pressing her
+fondly to his bosom. &#8220;You have always been gentle, loving and obedient.
+You have never wilfully given me one moment&#8217;s sorrow. In the name of thy
+beautiful mother I bless thee, and thou shalt be blessed.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The excitement of his feelings gave an exalted tone to his voice and
+words, and as the benediction stole solemnly into her heart, Helen felt
+as if the plumage of the white dove was folded in downy softness there.
+In the meantime Mittie had quitted the room, and Mrs. Gleason drawing
+near Louis, sat down by him, and addressed him in a kind, cheering
+manner.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;These heavy locks must be shorn to-morrow,&#8221; said she,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> passing her hand
+over his long, dark hair. &#8220;They sadden your countenance too much. A
+night&#8217;s sleep, too, will bring back the color to your face. You are over
+weary now. Retire, my son, and banish every emotion but gratitude for
+your return. You are safe now, and all will yet be well.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, mother,&#8221; he answered, suffering his head to droop upon her
+shoulder, then suddenly lifting it, &#8220;I am not worthy to rest on this
+sacred pillow. I am not worthy to touch the hem of your garments, but if
+the deepest repentance&mdash;the keenest remorse,&#8221; he paused, for his voice
+faltered, then added, passionately, &#8220;oh, mother&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8216;Not poppy, nor mandragora,<br />
+Nor all the drowsy sirups of the world<br />
+Can ever medicine me to the sweet sleep&#8217;</p>
+
+<p class="noindent">I once slept beneath this hallowed roof.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, my son&mdash;but there is a remedy more balmy and powerful than all the
+drugs of the East, which you can obtain without money and without
+price.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Louis shook his head mournfully.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I will give you an anodyne to-night, prepared by my own hand, and
+to-morrow&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Give me the anodyne, kindest and best of mothers, but don&#8217;t, for
+Heaven&#8217;s sake, talk of to-morrow.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>But whether man speak or be silent, Time, the unresting traveler,
+presses on. Never but once have its chariot wheels been stayed, when the
+sun stood still on the plains of Gibeon, and the moon hung pale and
+immovable over the vale of Ajalon. Sorrow and remorse are great
+prophets, but Time is greater still, and they can no more arrest or
+accelerate its progress than the breath of a new-born infant can move
+the eternal mountains from their base.</p>
+
+<p>Louis slept, thanks to his step-mother&#8217;s anodyne, and the dreaded morrow
+came, when the broad light of day must reveal all the inroads the
+indulgence of guilty passions had caused. Another revelation must be
+made. He knew his father would demand a full history of his conduct, and
+it was a relief to his burdened conscience, that had so long groaned
+under the weight of secret transgressions, to cast itself prostrate at
+the feet of parental authority in the dust and ashes of humiliation. But
+while he acknowledged and deplored<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> his own vices, he could not
+criminate Clinton. He implored his father to inflict upon him any
+penalty, however severe, he knew, he felt it to be just, but not to
+require of him to treat his friend with ingratitude and insult. His stay
+would not be long. He must return very soon to Virginia. He had been
+prevented from doing so by a fatal and contagious disease that had been
+raging in the neighborhood of his home, and when that subsided, other
+accidental causes had constantly interfered with his design. Must the
+high-spirited Virginian go back to his native regions with the story so
+oft repeated of New England coldness and inhospitality verified in his
+own experience?</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Say no more,&#8221; said his father. &#8220;I will reflect on all you have said,
+and you shall know the result. Now, come with me to the counting-house,
+and let me see if you can put your mathematics to any practical use.
+Employment is the greatest safeguard against temptation.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was one revelation which Louis did not make, and that was the
+amount of his debts. He dared not do it, though again and again he had
+opened his lips to tell it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To-morrow I will do it,&#8221; thought he&mdash;but before the morrow came he
+recollected the words of Miss Thusa, uttered the last time he had
+visited her cabin&mdash;&#8220;If you should get into trouble and not want to vex
+those that are kin, you can come to me, and if you don&#8217;t despise my
+counsel and assistance perhaps it may do you good.&#8221; This had made but
+little impression on him at the time, but it came back to him now
+&#8220;<em>powerfully</em>&#8221; as Miss Thusa would say; and he thought it possible there
+was more meant than reached the ear. He remembered how meaningly, how
+even commandingly her gray eye had fixed itself on him as she spoke, and
+he believed in the great love which the ancient spinster bore him. At
+any rate he knew she would be gratified by such a proof of confidence on
+his part, and that with Spartan integrity she would guard the trust. It
+would be a relief to confide in her.</p>
+
+<p>He waited till twilight and then appeared an unexpected but welcome
+visitor at the Hermitage, as Helen called the old gray cottage. The
+light in the chimney was dim, and she was hastening to kindle a more
+cheering blaze.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span>&#8220;No, Miss Thusa,&#8221; said he, &#8220;I love this soft gloom. There&#8217;s no need of a
+blaze to talk by, you know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But I want to see you, Louis. It is long since we&#8217;ve watched your
+coming. Many a time has Helen sat where you are now, and talked about
+you till the tears would run down her cheeks, wondering why you didn&#8217;t
+come, and fearing some evil had befallen you. I&#8217;ve had my misgivings,
+too, though I never breathed them to mortal ear, ever since you went off
+with that long-haired upstart, who fumbled so about my wheel, trying to
+fool me with his soft nonsense. What has become of him?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He is at home, I believe&mdash;but you are too harsh in your judgment, Miss
+Thusa. It is strange what prejudiced you so against him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Something <em>here</em>,&#8221; cried the spinster, striking her hand against her
+heart; &#8220;something that God put here, not man. I&#8217;m glad you and he have
+parted company; and I&#8217;m glad for more sakes than one. I never loved
+Mittie, but she&#8217;s her mother&#8217;s child, and I don&#8217;t like the thought of
+her being miserable for life. And now, Louis, what do you want me to do
+for you? I can see you are in trouble, though you don&#8217;t want the fire to
+blaze on your face. You forget I wear glasses, though they are not
+always at home, where they ought to be, on the bridge of my nose.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You told me if I needed counsel or assistance, to come to you and not
+trouble my kindred. I am in distress, Miss Thusa, and it is my own
+fault. I&#8217;m in debt. I owe money that I cannot raise; I cannot tax my
+father again to pay the wages of sin. Tell me now how you can aid me;
+<em>you</em>, poor and lonely, earning only a scanty pittance by the flax on
+your distaff, and as ignorant of the world as simple-hearted Helen
+herself?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Thusa leaned her head forward on both hands, swaying her body
+slowly backward and forward for a few seconds; then taking the poker,
+she gave the coals a great flourish, which made the sparks fly to the
+top of the chimney.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll try to help you,&#8221; said she, &#8220;but if you have been doing wrong and
+been led away by evil companions, he, your father, ought to know it.
+Better find it out from yourself than anybody else.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span>&#8220;He knows all my misconduct,&#8221; replied Louis, raising his head with an
+air of pride. &#8220;I would scorn to deceive him. And yet,&#8221; he added, with a
+conscious blush, &#8220;you may accuse me of deception in this instance. He
+has not asked me the sum I owe&mdash;and Heaven knows I could not go and
+thrust my bills in his face. I thought perhaps there was some usurer,
+whom you had heard of, who could let me have the money. They are debts
+of honor, and must be paid.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of <em>honor</em>!&#8221; repeated Miss Thusa, with a tone of ineffable contempt. &#8220;I
+thought you had more sense, Louis, than to talk in that nonsensical way.
+It&#8217;s more&mdash;it&#8217;s downright wicked. I know what it all means, well enough.
+They&#8217;re debts you are ashamed of, that you had no business to make, that
+you dare not let your father know of; and yet you call them debts of
+honor.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Louis rose from his seat with a haughty and offended air.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I was a fool to come,&#8221; he muttered to himself; &#8220;I might have known
+better. The Evil Spirit surely prompted me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Then walking rapidly to the door, he said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I came here for comfort and advice, Miss Thusa, according to your own
+bidding, not to listen to railings that can do no good to you or to me.
+I had been to you so often in my boyish difficulties, and found sympathy
+and kindness, I thought I should find it now. I know I do not deserve
+it, but I nevertheless expected it from you. But it is no matter. I may
+as well brave the worst at once.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Snatching up his hat and pulling it over his brows, he was about to
+shoot through the door, when the long arm of Miss Thusa was interposed
+as a barrier against him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There is no use in being angry with an old woman like me,&#8221; said she, in
+a pacifying tone, just as she would soothe a fretful child. &#8220;I always
+speak what I think, and it is the truth, too&mdash;Gospel truth, and you know
+it. But come, come, sit down like a good boy, and let us talk it all
+over. There&mdash;I won&#8217;t say another cross word to-night.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The first smile which had lighted up the face of Louis since his return,
+flitted over his lip, as Miss Thusa pushed him down into the chair he
+had quitted, and drew her own close to it.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span>&#8220;Now,&#8221; said she, &#8220;tell me how much money you want, and I&#8217;ll try to get
+it for you. Have faith in me. That can work wonders.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>After Louis had made an unreserved communication of the whole, she told
+him to come the next day.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can do nothing now,&#8221; said she, &#8220;but who knows what the morrow may
+bring forth?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who, indeed!&#8221; thought Louis, as he wended his solitary way homeward. &#8220;I
+know not why it is, but I cannot help having some reliance on the
+promises of this singular old woman. It was my perfect confidence in her
+truth and integrity that drew me to her. What her resources are, I know
+not; I fear they exist only in her own imagination; but if she should
+befriend me in this, mine extremity, may the holy angels guard and bless
+her. Alas! it is mockery for me to invoke them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The next day when he returned to her cabin, he found her spinning with
+all her accustomed solemnity. He blushed with shame, as he looked round
+on the appearance of poverty that met his eye, respectable and
+comfortable poverty, it is true&mdash;but for him to seek assistance of the
+inmate of such a dwelling! He must have thought her a sorceress, to have
+believed in the existence of such a thing. He must have been maddened to
+have admitted such an idea.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Forgive me, Miss Thusa,&#8221; said he, with the frankness of the <em>boy</em>
+Louis, &#8220;forgive me for plaguing you with my troubles. I was not in my
+right senses yesterday, or I should not have done it. I have resolved to
+have no concealments from my father, and to tell him all.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Thusa dipped her hand in a pocket as deep as a well, which she wore
+at her right side, and taking out a well-filled and heavy purse, she put
+it in the hand of Louis.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There is something to help you a little,&#8221; said she, without looking him
+in the face. &#8220;You must take it as a present from old Miss Thusa, and
+never say a word about it to a human being. That is all I ask of
+you&mdash;and it is not much. Don&#8217;t thank me. Don&#8217;t question me. The money
+was mine, honestly got and righteously given. One of these days I&#8217;ll
+tell you where it came from, but I can&#8217;t now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Louis held the purse with a bewildered air, his fingers<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> trembling with
+emotion. Never before had he felt all the ignominy and all the shame
+which he had brought upon himself. A hot, scalding tide came rushing
+with the cataract&#8217;s speed through his veins, and spreading with burning
+hue over his face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No! I cannot, I cannot!&#8221; he exclaimed, dropping the purse, and
+clenching his hands on his brow. &#8220;I did not mean to beg of your bounty.
+I am not so lost as to wrench from your aged hand, the gold that may
+purchase comfort and luxuries for all your remaining years. No, Miss
+Thusa, my reason has returned&mdash;my sense of honor, too&mdash;I were worse than
+a robber, to take advantage of your generous offer.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Louis&mdash;Louis Gleason,&#8221; cried Miss Thusa, rising from her seat, her
+tall, ancestral-looking figure assuming an air of majesty and
+command&mdash;&#8220;listen to me; if you cast that purse from you, I will never
+make use of it as long as I live, which won&#8217;t be long. It will do no good
+to a human being. What do I want of money? I had rather live in this
+little, old, gray hut than the palace of the Queen of England. I had
+rather earn my bread by this wheel, than eat the food of idleness. Your
+father gives me fuel in winter, and his heart is warmed by the fire that
+he kindles for me. It does him good. It does everybody good to befriend
+another. What do I want of money? To whom in the wide world should I
+give it, but you and Helen? I have as much and more for her. My heart is
+drawn powerfully towards you two children, and it will continue to draw,
+while there is life in its fibres or blood in its veins. Take it, I
+say&mdash;and in the name of your mother in heaven, go, and sin no more.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I take it,&#8221; said Louis, awed into submission and humility by her
+prophetic solemnity, &#8220;I take it as a loan, which I will labor day and
+night to return. What would my father say, if he knew of this?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He will not know it, unless you break your word,&#8221; said Miss Thusa,
+setting her wheel in motion, and wetting her fingers in the gourd. &#8220;You
+may go, now, if you will not talk of something else. I must go and get
+some more flax. I can see all the ribs of my distaff.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Louis knew that this was an excuse to escape his thanks, and giving her
+hand a reverent and silent pressure, he left<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> the cabin. Heavy as lead
+lay the purse in his pocket&mdash;heavy as lead lay the heart in his bosom.</p>
+
+<p>Helen met him at the door, with a radiant countenance.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who do you think is come, brother?&#8221; she asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is it Clinton?&#8221; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh! no&mdash;it is Alice. A friend of her brother was coming directly here,
+and she accompanied him. Come and see her.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thank God! <em>she</em> cannot see!&#8221; exclaimed Louis, as he passed into the
+presence of the blind girl.</p>
+
+<p>Though no beam of pleasure irradiated her sightless eyes, her bright and
+heightening color, the eager yet tremulous tones of her voice assured
+him of a joyous welcome. Alice remembered the thousand acts of kindness
+by which he had endeared to her the very helplessness which had called
+them forth. His was the hand every ready to guide her, the arm offered
+for her support. His were the cheering accents most welcome to her ears,
+and his steps had a music which belonged to no steps but his. His image,
+reflected on the retina of the soul, was beautiful as the dream of
+imagination, an image on which time could cast no shadow, being without
+variableness or change.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thank God,&#8221; again repeated Louis to himself, &#8220;that she cannot see. I
+can read no reproach in those blue and silent orbs. I can drink in her
+pure and holy loveliness, till my spirit grows purer and holier as I
+gaze. Blessings on thee for coming, sweet and gentle Alice. As David
+charmed the evil spirit in the haunted breast of Saul, so shall thy
+divine strains lull to rest the fiends of remorse that are wrestling and
+gnawing in my bosom. The time has been when I dreamed of being thy guide
+through life, a lamp to thy blindness, and a stay and support to thy
+helpless innocence. The dream is past&mdash;I wake to the dread reality of my
+own utter unworthiness.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>These thoughts rose tumultuously in the breast of the young man, in the
+moment of greeting, while the soft hand of the blind girl lingered
+tremblingly in his. Without thinking of the influence it might have on
+her feelings, he sought her presence as a balm to his chafed and
+tortured heart, as a repose to his worn and weary spirit, as an anodyne
+to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> agonies of remorse. The grave, sad glance of his father; the
+serious, yet tender and pitying look of his step-mother; and the
+pensive, melting, sympathizing eye of Helen, were all daggers to his
+conscience. But Alice could not see. No daggers of reproach were
+sheathed in those reposing eyes. Oh! how remorse and shame shrink from
+being arraigned before that throne of light where the immortal spirit
+sits enthroned&mdash;the human eye! If thus conscious guilt recoils from the
+gaze of man, weak, fallible, erring man, how can it stand the consuming
+fire of that Eternal Eye, in whose sight the heavens are not clean, and
+before which archangels bend, veiling their brows with their refulgent
+wings!</p>
+
+<p>It was about a week after the arrival of Louis and the coming of Alice,
+that, as the family were assembled round the evening fireside, a note
+was brought to Louis.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Clinton is come,&#8221; cried he, in an agitated voice, &#8220;he waits me at the
+hotel.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What shall I say to him, father?&#8221; asked he, turning to Mr. Gleason,
+whose folded arms gave an air of determination to his person, which
+Louis did not like.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come with me into the next room, Louis,&#8221; said Mr. Gleason, and Louis
+followed with a firm step but a sinking heart.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have reflected deeply, deliberately, prayerfully on this subject, my
+son, since we last discussed it, and the result is this: I cannot, while
+such dark doubts disturb my mind, I cannot, consistent with my duty as a
+father and a Christian, allow this young man to be domesticated in my
+family again. If I wrong him, may God forgive me&mdash;but if I wrong my own
+household, I fear He never will.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I cannot go&mdash;I will not go!&#8221; exclaimed Louis, dashing the note on the
+floor. &#8220;This is the last brimming drop in the cup of humiliation,
+bitterer than all the rest.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Louis, Louis, have you not merited humiliation? Have <em>you</em> a right to
+murmur at the decree? Have I upbraided you for the anxious days and
+sleepless nights you have occasioned me? For my blasted hopes and
+embittered joys? No, Louis. I saw that your own heart condemned you, and
+I left you to your God, who is greater than your own heart and mine!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span>&#8220;Oh, father!&#8221; cried Louis, melted at once by this pathetic and solemn
+appeal, &#8220;I know I have no right to claim any thing at your hands, but I
+beg, I supplicate&mdash;not for myself&mdash;but another!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;Tis in vain, Louis. Urge me no more. On this point I am inflexible.
+But, since it is so painful to you, I will go myself and openly avow the
+reasons of my conduct.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, sir,&#8221; exclaimed Louis, &#8220;not for the world. I will go at once.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He turned suddenly and quitted the apartment, and then the house, with a
+half-formed resolution of fleeing to the wild woods, and never more
+returning.</p>
+
+<p>Mittie, who was fortunately in her room above, (fortunately, we say, for
+her presence would have been as fuel to flame,) heard the quick opening
+and shutting of doors, and the sound of rapid steps on the flag-stones
+of the yard.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Louis, Louis,&#8221; she cried, opening the window and recognizing his figure
+in the star-lit night, &#8220;whither are you going?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To perdition!&#8221; was the passionate reply.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Louis, speak and tell me truly, is Clinton come?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He is.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And you are going to bring him here?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, never, never! Now shut the window. You have heard enough.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Yes, she had heard enough! The sash fell from her hand, and a pane of
+glass, shivered by the fall, flew partly in shining particles against
+her dress, and partly lay scattered on the snowy ground. A fragment
+rebounded, and glanced upon her forehead, making the blood-drops trickle
+down her cheek. Wiping them off with her handkerchief, she gazed on the
+crimson stain, and remembering her bleeding fingers when they parted,
+and Miss Thusa&#8217;s legend of the Maiden&#8217;s Bleeding Heart, she
+involuntarily put her hand to her own to feel if it were not bleeding,
+too. All the strong and passionate love which had been smouldering
+there, beneath the ashes of sullen pride, struggling for vent, heaved
+the bosom where it was concealed. And with this love there blazed a
+fiercer flame, indignation against her father for the prohibition that
+raised a barrier between herself and Bryant Clinton.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> One moment she
+resolved to rush down stairs and give utterance to the vehement anger
+that threatened to suffocate her by repression; the next, the image of a
+stern, rebuking father, inflexible in his will, checked her rash design.
+Had she been in his presence and heard the interdiction repeated, her
+resentful feelings would have burst forth; but, daring as she was, there
+was some restraining influence over her passions.</p>
+
+<p>Then she reflected that parental prohibitions were as the gossamer web
+before the strength of real love,&mdash;that though Clinton was forbidden to
+meet her in her father&#8217;s house, the world was wide enough to furnish a
+trysting-place elsewhere. Let him but breathe the word, she was ready to
+fly with him from zone to zone, believing that even the frozen regions
+of Lapland would be converted into a blooming Paradise by the magic of
+his love. But what if he loved her no more, as Helen had asserted? What
+if Helen had indeed supplanted her?</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, no!&#8221; cried she, aloud, shrinking from the dark and evil thoughts
+that came gliding into her soul; &#8220;no, no, I will not think of it! It
+would drive me mad!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was past midnight when Louis returned, and the light still burned in
+Mittie&#8217;s chamber. The moment she heard his step on the flag-stones, she
+sprang to the window and opened it. The cold night air blew chill on her
+feverish and burning face, but she heeded it not.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Louis,&#8221; she said, &#8220;wait. I will come down and open the door.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is not fastened,&#8221; he replied; &#8220;it is not likely that I am barred out
+also. Go to bed, Mittie&mdash;for Heaven&#8217;s sake, go to bed.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>But, throwing off her slippers, she flew down stairs, the carpet
+muffling the sound of her footsteps, and met her brother on the
+threshold.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why will you do this, Mittie?&#8221; cried he, impatiently. &#8220;Do go back&mdash;I am
+cold and weary, and want to go to bed.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Only tell me one thing&mdash;have you no message for me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;None.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;When does he go away?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know. But one thing I can tell you; if you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> value your peace
+and happiness, let not your heart anchor its hopes on him. Look upon all
+that is past as mere gallantry on his side, and the natural drawing of
+youth to youth on yours. Come this way,&#8221; drawing her into the
+sitting-room, where the dying embers still communicated warmth to the
+apartment, and shed a dim, lurid light on their faces. &#8220;Though my head
+aches as if red-hot wires were passing through it, I must guard you at
+once against this folly. You know so little of the world, Mittie, you
+don&#8217;t understand the manners of young men, especially when first
+released from college. There is a chivalry about them which converts
+every young lady into an angel, and they address them as such. Their
+attentions seldom admit a more serious construction. Besides&mdash;but no
+matter&mdash;I have said enough, I hope, to rouse the pride of your sex, and
+to induce you to banish Clinton from your thoughts. Good-night.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Though he tried to speak carelessly, he was evidently much agitated.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good-night,&#8221; he again repeated, but Mittie stood motionless as a
+statue, looking steadfastly on the glimmering embers. &#8220;Go up stairs,&#8221; he
+cried, taking her cold hand, and leading her to the door, &#8220;you will be
+frozen if you stay here much longer.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am frozen already,&#8221; she answered, shuddering, &#8220;good night.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The next morning, when the housemaid went into her room to kindle a
+fire, she was startled by the appearance of a muffled figure seated at
+the window, with the head leaning against the casement; the face was as
+white as the snow on the landscape. It was Mittie. She had not laid her
+head upon the pillow the whole live-long night.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Beautiful tyrant&mdash;fiend angelical&mdash;<br />
+Dove-feathered raven!&mdash;wolf-devouring lamb&mdash;<br />
+Oh, serpent heart&mdash;hid in a flowering cave,<br />
+Did e&#8217;er deceit dwell in so fair a mansion!&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Shakspeare.</cite></p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Pray for the dead.<br />
+Why for the dead, who are at rest?<br />
+Pray for the living, in whose breast<br />
+The struggle between right and wrong<br />
+Is raging terrible and strong.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Longfellow.</cite></p>
+
+
+<p class="firstpar"><span class="smcap">&#8220;Are</span> you willing to remain with her alone, all night?&#8221; asked the young
+doctor.</p>
+
+<p>Helen glanced towards the figure reclining on the bed, whose length
+appeared almost supernatural, and whose appearance was rendered more
+gloomy by the dun-colored counterpane that enveloped it&mdash;and though her
+countenance changed, she answered, &#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Have you no fears that the old superstitions of your childhood will
+resume their influence over your imagination, in the stillness of the
+midnight hour?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I wish to subject myself to the trial. I am not quite sure of myself. I
+know there is no real danger, and it is time that I should battle
+single-handed with all imaginary foes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But supposing your parents should object?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You must tell them how very ill she is, and how much she wishes me to
+remain with her. I think they will rejoice in my determination&mdash;rejoice
+that their poor, weak Helen has any energy of purpose, any will or power
+to be useful.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If you knew half your strength, half your power, Helen, I fear you
+would abuse it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A bright flame flashed up from the dark, serene depths of his eyes, and
+played on Helen&#8217;s downcast face. She had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> seen its kindling, and now
+felt its warmth glowing in her cheek, and in her inmost heart. The
+large, old clock behind the door, struck the hour loudly, with its
+metallic hands. Arthur started and looked at his watch.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I did not think it was so late,&#8221; he exclaimed, rising in haste. &#8220;I have
+a patient to visit, whom I promised to be with before this time. Do you
+know, Helen, we have been talking at least two hours by this fireside?
+Miss Thusa slumbers long.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He went to the bedside, felt of the sleeper&#8217;s pulse, listened
+attentively to her deep, irregular breathing, and then returned to
+Helen.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The opiate she has taken will probably keep her in a quiet state during
+the night&mdash;if not, you will recollect the directions I have given&mdash;and
+administer the proper remedies. Does not your courage fail, now I am
+about to leave you? Have you no misgivings now?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know. If I have, I will not express them. I am resolved on
+self-conquest, and your doubts of my courage only serve to strengthen my
+resolution.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Arthur smiled&mdash;&#8220;I see you have a will of your own, Helen, under that
+gentle, child-like exterior, to which mine is forced to bend. But I will
+not suffer you to be beyond the reach of assistance. I will send a woman
+to sleep in the kitchen, whom you can call, if you require her aid. As I
+told you before, I do not apprehend any immediate danger, though I do
+not think she will rise from that bed again.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Helen sighed, and tears gathered in her eyes. She accompanied Arthur to
+the door, that she might put the strong bar across it, which was Miss
+Thusa&#8217;s substitute for a lock.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps I may call on my return,&#8221; said he, &#8220;but it is very doubtful.
+Take care of yourself and keep warm. And if any unfavorable change takes
+place, send the woman for me. And now good-night&mdash;dear, good, brave
+Helen. May God bless, and angels watch over you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He pressed her hand, wrapped his cloak around him, and left Helen to her
+solitary vigils. She lifted the massy bar with trembling hands, and slid
+it into the iron hooks, fitted to receive it. Her hands trembled, but
+not from fear, but delight. Arthur had called her &#8220;dear and brave&#8221;&mdash;and
+long after<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> she had reseated herself by the lonely hearth, the echo of
+his gentle, manly accents, seemed floating round the walls.</p>
+
+<p>The illness of Miss Thusa was very sudden. She had risen in the morning
+in usual health, and pursued until noon her customary occupation&mdash;when,
+all at once, as she told the young doctor, &#8220;it seemed as if a knife went
+through her heart, and a wedge into her brain&mdash;and she was sure it was a
+death-stroke.&#8221; For the first time, in the course of her long life, she
+was obliged to take her bed, and there she lay in helplessness and
+loneliness, unable to summon relief. The young doctor called in the
+afternoon as a friend, and found his services imperatively required as a
+physician. The only wish she expressed was to have Helen with her, and
+as soon as he had relieved the sufferings of his patient, Arthur brought
+Helen to the Hermitage. When she arrived, Miss Thusa was under the
+influence of an opiate, but opening her heavy eyes, a ray of light
+emanated from the dim, gray orbs, as Helen, pale and awe-struck,
+approached her bedside. She was appalled at seeing that powerful frame
+so suddenly prostrated&mdash;she was shocked at the change a few hours had
+wrought in those rough, but commanding features. The large eye-balls
+looked sunken, and darkly shaded below, while a wan, gray tint, melting
+off into a bluish white on the temples, was spread over the face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You will stay with me to-night, my child,&#8221; said she, in a voice
+strangely altered. &#8220;I&#8217;ve got something to tell you&mdash;and the time is
+come.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes. I will stay with you as long as you wish, Miss Thusa,&#8221; replied
+Helen, passing her hand softly over the hoary looks that shaded the brow
+of the sufferer. &#8220;I will nurse you so tenderly, that you will soon be
+well again.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good child&mdash;blessed child!&#8221; murmured she, closing her eyes beneath the
+slumberous weight of the anodyne, and sinking into a deep sleep.</p>
+
+<p>And now Helen sat alone, watching the aged friend, whose strongly-marked
+and peculiar character had had so great an influence on her own. For
+awhile the echo of Arthur&#8217;s parting words made so much music in her ear,
+it drowned the harsh, solemn ticking of the old clock, and stole like a
+sweet lullaby over her spirit. But gradually the ticking sounded<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> louder
+and louder, and her loneliness pressed heavily upon her. There was a
+little, dark, walnut table, standing on three curiously wrought legs, in
+a corner of the room. On this a large Bible, covered with dark, linen
+cloth, was laid, and on the top of this Miss Thusa&#8217;s spectacles, with
+the bows crossing each other, like the stiffened arms of a corpse. Helen
+could not bear to look upon those spectacles, which had always seemed to
+her an inseparable part of Miss Thusa, lying so still and melancholy
+there. She took them up reverently, and laid them on a shelf, then
+drawing the table near the fire, or rather carrying it, so as not to
+awaken the sleeper, she opened the sacred book. The first words which
+happened to meet her eye, were&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where is God, my Maker, who giveth me songs in the night?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The pious heart of the young girl thrilled as she read this beautiful
+and appropriate text.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Surely, oh God, Thou art here,&#8221; was the unspoken language of that
+young, believing heart, &#8220;here in this lonely cottage, here by this bed
+of sickness, and here also in this trembling, fearing, yet trusting
+spirit. In every life-beat throbbing in my veins, Thy awful steps I
+hear. Yet Thou canst not come, Thou canst not go, for Thou art ever
+near, unseen, yet felt, an all pervading, glorious presence.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Had any one seen Helen, seated by that solitary hearth, with her hands
+clasped over those holy pages, her mild, devotional eyes raised to
+Heaven, the light quivering in a halo round her brow, they might have
+imagined her a young Saint, or a young Sister of Charity, ministering to
+the sufferings of that world whose pleasures she had abjured.</p>
+
+<p>A low knock was heard at the door. It must be the young doctor, for who
+else would call at such an hour? Yet Helen hesitated and trembled,
+holding her breath to listen, thinking it possible it was but the
+pressure of the wind, or some rat tramping within the walls. But when
+the knock was repeated, with a little more emphasis, she took the lamp,
+entered the narrow passage, closing the door softly after her, removed
+the massy bar, certain of beholding the countenance which was the
+sunlight of her soul. What was her astonishment and terror, on seeing
+instead the never-to-be-forgotten<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> face and form of Bryant Clinton. Had
+she seen one of those awful figures which Miss Thusa used to describe,
+she would scarcely have been more appalled than by the unexpected sight
+of this transcendently handsome young man.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is terror the only emotion I can inspire&mdash;after so long an absence,
+too?&#8221; he asked, seizing her hand in both his, and riveting upon her his
+wonderfully expressive, dark blue eyes. &#8220;Forgive me if I have alarmed
+you, but forbidden your father&#8217;s house, and knowing your presence here,
+I have dared to come hither that I might see you one moment before I
+leave these regions, perhaps forever.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Impossible, Mr. Clinton,&#8221; cried Helen, recovering, in some measure,
+from her consternation, though her color came and went like the beacon&#8217;s
+revolving flame. &#8220;I cannot see you at this unseasonable hour. There is a
+sick, a very sick person in the nest room with whom I am watching. I
+cannot ask you to come in. Besides,&#8221; she added, with a dignity that
+enchanted the bold intruder, &#8220;if I cannot see you in my father&#8217;s house,
+it is not proper that I see you at all.&#8221; She drew back quickly, uttering
+a hasty &#8220;Good-night,&#8221; and was about to close the door, when Clinton
+glided in, shutting the door after him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You must hear me, Helen,&#8221; said he, in that sweet, low voice, peculiar
+to himself. &#8220;Had it not been for you I should never have returned. I
+told you once that I loved you, but if I loved you then I must adore you
+now. You are ten thousand times more lovely. Helen, you do not know how
+charming, how beautiful you are. You do not know the enthusiastic
+devotion, the deathless passion you have inspired.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I cannot conceive of such depths of falsehood,&#8221; exclaimed Helen, her
+timid eyes kindling with indignation; &#8220;all this have you said to Mittie,
+and far more, and she, mistaken girl, believes you true.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I deceived myself, alas!&#8221; cried he, in a tone of bitter sorrow. &#8220;I
+thought I loved her, for I had not yet seen and known her gentler,
+lovelier sister. Forgive me, Helen&mdash;love is not the growth of our will.
+&#8217;Tis a flower that springs spontaneously in the human heart, of
+celestial fragrance, and destined to immortal bloom.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If I thought you really loved me,&#8221; said Helen, in a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> softened tone,
+shrinking from the fascination of his glance, and the sorcery of his
+voice, &#8220;I should feel great and exceeding sorrow&mdash;for it would be in
+vain. But the love that I have imagined is of a very different nature.
+Slowly kindled, it burns with steady and unceasing glory, unchanging as
+the sun, and eternal as the soul.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Helen paused with a burning flush, fearful that she had revealed the one
+secret of her heart so lately revealed to herself, and Clinton resumed
+his passionate declarations.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If you will not go,&#8221; said she, all her terror returning at the
+vehemence of his suit, &#8220;if you will not go,&#8221; looking wildly at the door
+that separated her from the sick room, &#8220;I will leave you here. You dare
+not follow me. The destroying angel guards this threshold.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In her excitement she knew not what she uttered. The words came unbidden
+from her lips. She laid her hand on the latch, but Clinton caught hold
+of it ere she had time to lift it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You shall not leave me, by heaven, you shall not, till you have
+answered one question. Is it for the cold, calculating Arthur Hazleton
+you reject such love as mine?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Instead of uttering an indignant denial to this sudden and vehement
+interrogation, Helen trembled and turned pale. Her natural timidity and
+sensitiveness returned with overpowering influence; and added to these,
+a keen sense of shame at being accused of an unsolicited attachment, a
+charge she could not with truth repel, humbled and oppressed her.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;A murderous guilt shows not itself more soon<br />
+Than love that would seem hid.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>So thought Helen, while shrinking from the glance that gleamed upon her,
+like blue steel flashing in the sunbeams. Yes! Arthur Hazleton <em>was</em>
+cold compared to Clinton. He loved her even as he did Alice, with a
+calm, brotherly affection, and that was all. He had never praised her
+beauty or attractions&mdash;never offered the slightest incense to her vanity
+or pride. Sometimes he had uttered indirect expressions, which had made
+her bosom throb wildly with hope, but humility soon chastened the
+emotion which delicacy taught her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> to conceal. Cold indeed sounded the
+warmest phrase he had ever addressed her, &#8220;God bless you, dear, good,
+brave Helen,&#8221; to Clinton&#8217;s romantic and impassioned language, though,
+when it fell from his lips, it passed with such melting warmth into her
+heart. Swift as a swallow&#8217;s flight these thoughts darted through Helen&#8217;s
+mind, and gave an indecision and embarrassment to her manner, which
+emboldened Clinton with hopes of success. All at once her countenance
+changed. The strangeness of her situation, the lateness of the hour, the
+impropriety of receiving such a visitor in that little dark, narrow
+passage&mdash;the dread of Arthur&#8217;s coming in, and finding her alone with her
+dreaded though splendid companion&mdash;the fear that Miss Thusa might waken
+and require her assistance&mdash;the vision of her father&#8217;s displeasure and
+Mittie&#8217;s jealous wrath&mdash;all swept in a stormy gust before her, driving
+away every consideration but one&mdash;the desire for escape, and the
+determination to effect it. The apprehension of awaking Miss Thusa, by
+rushing into her room, died in the grasp of a greater terror.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let me go,&#8221; she exclaimed, wrenching her hand from his tightening hold.
+&#8220;Let me go. You madden me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In her haste to open the door the latch rattled, and the door swung to
+with a violence that called forth a groan from the awakening sleeper.
+Turning the wooden button that fastened it on the inside, she sunk down
+into the first seat in her reach, and a dark shadow, flecked with sparks
+of fire, floated before her eyes. Chill and dizzy, she thought she was
+going to faint, when her name, pronounced distinctly by Miss Thusa,
+recalled her bewildered senses. She rose, and it seemed as if the bed
+came to her, for she was not conscious of walking to it, but she found
+herself bending over the patient and looking steadfastly into her
+clouded eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Helen, my dear,&#8221; said she, &#8220;I feel a great deal better. I must have
+slept a long time. Have I not? Give me a little water. There, now sit
+down close by my bed and listen. If that knife cuts my breath again, I
+shall have to give up talking. Just raise my head a little, and hand me
+my spectacles off the big Bible. I can&#8217;t talk without them. But how dim
+the glasses are. Wipe them for me, child. There&#8217;s dust settled on
+them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span>Helen took the glasses and wiped them with her soft linen handkerchief,
+but she sighed as she did so, well knowing that it was the eyes that
+were growing dim instead of the crystal that covered them.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A little better&mdash;a little better,&#8221; said the spinster, looking wistfully
+towards the candle. &#8220;Now, Helen, my dear, just step into the other room
+and bring here my wheel. It is heavy, but not beyond your strength. I
+always bring it in here at night, but I can&#8217;t do it now. I was taken
+sick so sudden, I forgot it. It&#8217;s my stay-by and stand-by&mdash;you know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Helen looked so startled and wild, that Miss Thusa imagined her struck
+with superstitious terror at the thought of going alone into another
+room.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m sorry to see you&#8217;ve not outgrown your weaknesses,&#8221; said she. &#8220;It&#8217;s
+my fault, I&#8217;m afraid, but I hope the Lord will forgive me for it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Helen was not afraid of the lonely room, so near and so lately occupied,
+but she was afraid of encountering Clinton, who might be lingering by
+the open door. But Miss Thusa&#8217;s request, sick and helpless as she was,
+had the authority of a command, and she rose to obey her. She barred the
+outer door without catching the gleam of Clinton&#8217;s dark, shining hair,
+and having brought the wheel, with panting breath, for it was indeed
+very heavy, sat down with a feeling of security and relief, since the
+enemy was now shut out by double barriers. One window was partly raised
+to admit the air to Miss Thusa&#8217;s oppressed lungs, but they were both
+fastened above.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You had better not exert yourself, Miss Thusa,&#8221; said Helen, after
+giving her the medicine which the doctor had prescribed. &#8220;You are not
+strong enough to talk much now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I shall never be stronger, my child. My day is almost spent, and the
+night cometh, wherein no man can work. I always thought I should have a
+sudden call, and when I was struck with that sharp pain, I knew my
+Master was knocking at the door. The Lord be praised, I don&#8217;t want to
+bar him out. I&#8217;m ready and willing to go, willing to close my long and
+lonely life. I have had few to love, and few to care for me, but, thank
+God, the one I love best of all does not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> forsake me in my last hour.
+Helen, darling, God bless you&mdash;God bless you, my blessed child.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The voice of the aged spinster faltered, and tear after tear trickled
+like wintry rain down her furrowed cheeks. All the affections of a
+naturally warm and generous heart lingered round the young girl, who was
+still to her the little child whom she had cradled in her arms, and
+hushed into the stillness of awe by her ghostly legends. Helen,
+inexpressibly affected, leaned her head on Miss Thusa&#8217;s pillow, and wept
+and sobbed audibly. She did not know, till this moment, how strong and
+deep-rooted was her attachment for this singular and isolated being.
+There was an individuality, a grandeur in her character, to which
+Helen&#8217;s timid, upward-looking spirit paid spontaneous homage. The wild
+sweep of her imagination, always kept within the limits of the purest
+morality, her stern sense of justice, tempered by sympathy and
+compassion, and the tenderness and sensibility that so often softened
+her harsh and severe lineaments, commanded her respect and admiration.
+Even her person, which was generally deemed ungainly and unattractive,
+was invested with majesty and a certain grace in Helen&#8217;s partial eyes.
+She was old&mdash;but hers was the sublimity of age without its infirmity,
+the hoariness of winter without its chillness. It seemed impossible to
+associate with her the idea of dissolution. Yet there she lay, helpless
+as an infant, with no more strength to resist the Almighty&#8217;s will, than
+a feather to hurl back the force of the whirlwind.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You see that wheel, Helen,&#8221; said she, recovering her usual calmness&mdash;&#8220;I
+told you that I should bequeath it, as a legacy, to you. Don&#8217;t despise
+the homely gift. You see those brass bands, with grooves in them&mdash;just
+screw them to the right as hard as you can&mdash;a little harder.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Helen screwed and twisted till her slender wrists ached, when the brass
+suddenly parted, and a number of gold pieces rolled upon the floor.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Pick them up, and put them back,&#8221; said Miss Thusa, &#8220;and screw it up
+again&mdash;all the joints will open in that way. The wood is hollowed out
+and filled with gold, which I bequeath to you. My will is in there, too,
+made by the lawyers where I found the money. You remember when that
+adver<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span>tisement was put in the papers, and I went on that journey, part
+of the way with you. Well, I must tell you the shortest way, though it&#8217;s
+a long story. It was written by a lady, on her death-bed, a widow lady,
+who had no children, and a large property of her own. You don&#8217;t remember
+my brother, but your father does. He was a hater of the world, and
+almost made me one. Well, it seemed he had a cause for his misanthropy
+which I never knew of, for when he was a young man he went away from
+home, and we didn&#8217;t hear from him for years. When he came back, he was
+sad and sickly, and wanted to get into some little quiet place, where
+nobody would molest him. Then it was we came to this little cabin, where
+he died, in this very room, and this very bed, too.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Thusa paused, and the room and the bed seemed all at once clothed
+with supernatural solemnity, by the sad consecration of death. Death had
+been there&mdash;death was waiting there.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh! Miss Thusa, you are faint and weary. Do stop and rest, I pray you,&#8221;
+cried Helen, bathing her forehead with camphor, and holding a glass of
+water to her lips.</p>
+
+<p>But the unnatural strength which opium gives, sustained her, and she
+continued her narrative.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This lady, when young, had loved and been betrothed to my brother, and
+then forsook him for a wealthier man. It was that which ruined him, and
+I never knew it. He had one of those still natures, where the waters of
+sorrow lie deep as a well. They never overflow. She told me that she
+never had had one happy moment from the time she married, and that her
+conscience gnawed her for her broken faith. Her husband died, and left
+her a rich widow, without a child to leave her property to. After a
+while she fell sick of a long and lingering disease, for which there is
+no cure. Then she thought if she could leave her money to my brother, or
+he being dead, to some of his kin, she could die with more comfort. So,
+she put the advertisement in the paper, which you all saw. I didn&#8217;t want
+the money, and wanted to come away without it, but she sent for a
+lawyer, and had it all fastened upon me by deeds and writings, whether I
+was willing or not. She didn&#8217;t live but a few days after I got there.
+The lawyer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> was very kind, and assisted me in my plans, though he
+thought them very odd. There is no need of wasting my breath in telling
+how I had the money changed into gold, and the wheel fixed in the way
+you see it, after a fashion of my own. I would not have touched one cent
+of it, had it not been for you, and next to you, that poor boy, Louis. I
+didn&#8217;t want any one to know it, and be dinning in my ears about money
+from morning to night. I had no use for it myself, for habits don&#8217;t
+change when the winter of life is begun. There is no use for it in the
+dark grave to which I am hastening. There is no use for it near the
+great white throne of God, where I shall shortly stand. When I am dead
+and gone, Helen, take that wheel home, and give it a place wherever you
+are, for old Miss Thusa&#8217;s sake. I really think&mdash;I&#8217;m a strange, foolish
+old woman&mdash;but I really think I should like to have its likeness painted
+on my coffin lid. A kind of coat-of-arms, you know, child.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Thusa did not relate all this without pausing many times for
+breath, and when she concluded she closed her eyes, exhausted by the
+effort she had made. In a short time she again slept, and Helen sat
+pondering in mute amazement over the disclosure made by one whom she had
+imagined so very indigent. The gold weighed heavy on her mind. It did
+not seem real, so strangely acquired, so mysteriously concealed. It
+reminded her of the tales of the genii, more than of the actualities of
+every day life. She prayed that Miss Thusa might live and take care of
+it herself for long years to come.</p>
+
+<p>Several times during the recital, she thought she heard a sound at the
+window, but when she turned her head to ascertain the cause, she saw
+nothing but the curtain slightly fluttering in the wind that crept in at
+the opening, with a soft, sighing sound.</p>
+
+<p>It was the first time she had ever watched with the sick, and she found
+it a very solemn thing. Yet with all the solemnity and gloom brooding
+over her, she felt inexpressible gratitude that she was not haunted by
+the spectral illusions of her childhood. Reason was no longer the
+vassal, but the monarch of imagination, and though the latter often
+proved<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> a restless and wayward subject, it acknowledged the former as
+its legitimate sovereign.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Thusa, lying so rigid and immovable on her back, with her hands
+crossed on her breast, a white linen handkerchief folded over her head
+and fastened under the chin, looked so resembling death, that it was
+difficult to think of her as a living, breathing thing. Helen gazed upon
+her with indescribable awe, sometimes believing it was nothing but
+soulless clay before her, but even then she gazed without horror. Her
+exceeding terror of death was gone, without her being conscious of its
+departure. It was like the closing of a dark abyss&mdash;there was <em lang="la" xml:lang="la">terra
+firma</em>, where an awful chasm had been. There was more terror to her in
+the vitality burning in her own heart, than in that poor, enfeebled
+form. How strong were its pulsations! how loud they sounded in the
+midnight stillness!&mdash;louder than the death-watch that ticked by the
+hearth. To escape from the beatings of &#8220;this muffled drum&#8221; of life, she
+went to the window, and partly drawing aside the curtain, breathed on a
+pane of glass, so that the gauzy web the frost had woven might melt away
+and admit the vertical rays of the midnight moon. How beautiful, how
+resplendent was the scene that was spread out before her! She had not
+thought before of looking abroad, and it was the first time the solemn
+glories of the noon of night had unfolded to her view. In the morning a
+drizzling rain had fallen, which had frozen as it fell on the branches
+of the leafless trees, and now on every little twig hung pendant
+diamonds, glittering in the moonbeams. The ground was partially covered
+with snow, but where it lay bare, it was powdered with diamond dust. A
+silvery net-work was drawn over the windows, save one clear spot, which
+her melting breath had made. She looked up to the moon, shining so high,
+so lone on the pale azure of a wintry heaven, and felt an impulse to
+kneel down and worship it, as the loveliest, holiest image of the
+Creator&#8217;s goodness and love. How tranquil, how serene, how soft, yet
+glorious it shone forth from the still depths of ether! What a divine
+melancholy it diffused over the sleeping earth! Helen felt as she often
+did when looking up into the eyes of Arthur Hazleton. So tranquil, so
+serene, yet so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> glorious were their beams to her, and so silently and
+holily did they sink into the soul.</p>
+
+<p>In the morning the young doctor found his patient in the same feeble,
+slumberous state. There was no apparent change either for better or
+worse, and he thought it probable she might linger days and even weeks,
+gradually sinking, till she slept the last great sleep.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You look weary and languid, Helen,&#8221; said he, anxiously regarding the
+young watcher, &#8220;I hope nothing disturbed your lonely vigils. I
+endeavored to return, that I might relieve you, in some measure, of your
+fatiguing duty, but was detained the whole night.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Helen thought of the terror she had suffered from Clinton&#8217;s intrusion,
+but she did not like to speak of it. Perhaps he had already left the
+neighborhood, and it seemed ungenerous and useless to betray him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I certainly had no ghostly visitors,&#8221; said she, &#8220;and what is more, I
+did not fear them. All unreal phantasies fled before that sad reality,&#8221;
+looking on the wan features of Miss Thusa.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I see you have profited by the discipline of the last twelve hours,&#8221;
+cried Arthur, &#8220;and it was most severe, for one of your temperament and
+early habits. I have heard it said,&#8221; he added, thoughtfully, &#8220;that those
+who follow my profession, become callous and indifferent to human
+suffering&mdash;that their nerves are steeled, and their hearts
+indurated&mdash;but I do not find it the case with me; I never approach the
+bedside of the sick and the dying without deep and solemn emotion. I
+feel nearer the grave, nearer to Heaven and God.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No&mdash;I am sure it cannot be said of you,&#8221; said Helen, earnestly, &#8220;you
+are always kind and sympathizing&mdash;quick to relieve, and slow to inflict
+pain.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah, Helen, you forget how cruel I was in forcing you back, where the
+deadly viper had been coiled; in making you take that dark, solitary
+walk in search of the sleeping Alice; and even last night I might have
+spared you your lonely night watch, if I would. Had I told you that you
+were too inexperienced and inefficient to be a good nurse, you would
+have believed me and yielded your place, or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> at least shared it with
+another. Do you still think me kind?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Most kind, even when most exacting,&#8221; she replied. Whenever her feelings
+were excited, her deep feelings of joy as well as sorrow, Helen&#8217;s eyes
+always glistened. This peculiarity gave a soft, pensive expression to
+her countenance that was indescribably winning, and made her smile from
+the effect of contrast enchantingly sweet.</p>
+
+<p>The glistening eye and the enchanting smile that followed these words,
+or rather accompanied them, were not altogether lost on Arthur.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Gleason came to relieve Helen from the care of nursing, and
+insisted upon her immediate return home. Helen obeyed with reluctance,
+claiming the privilege of resuming her watch again at night. She wanted
+to be with Miss Thusa in her last moments. She had a sublime curiosity
+to witness the last strife of body and soul, the separation of the
+visible and the invisible; but when night came on, exhausted nature
+sought renovation in the deepest slumbers that had ever wrapped her.
+Arthur, perceiving some change in his patient, resolved to remain with
+her himself, having hired a woman to act as subordinate nurse during
+Miss Thusa&#8217;s sickness. She occupied the kitchen as bed-room&mdash;an
+apartment running directly back of the sick chamber.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Thusa&#8217;s strength was slowly, gently wasting. Disease had struck her
+at first like a sharp poignard, but life flowed away from the wound
+without much after suffering. The greater part of the time she lay in a
+comatose state, from which it was difficult to rouse her.</p>
+
+<p>Arthur sat by the fire, with a book in his hand, which at times seemed
+deeply to interest him, and at others, he dropped it in his lap, and
+gazing intently into the glowing coals, appeared absorbed in the
+mysteries of thought.</p>
+
+<p>About midnight, when reverie had deepened into slumber, he was startled
+by a low knock at the door. He had not fastened it as elaborately as
+Helen had done, and quickly and noiselessly opening it, he demanded who
+was there. It was a young boy, bearing him a note from the family he had
+visited the preceding night. His patient was attacked with some very
+alarming symptoms, and begged his immediate at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span>tendance. Having wakened
+the woman and commissioned her to watch during his absence, Arthur
+departed, surprised at the unexpected summons, as he had seen the
+patient at twilight, who then appeared in a fair way of recovery. His
+surprise was still greater, when arriving at the house he found that no
+summons had been sent for him, no note written, but the whole household
+were wrapped in peaceful slumbers. The note, which he carried in his
+pocket, was pronounced a forgery, and must have been written with some
+dark and evil design. But what could it be? Who could wish to draw him
+away from that poor, lone cottage, that poor sick, dying woman? It was
+strange, inexplicable.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Mason, the gentleman in whose name the note had been written, and
+who fortunately happened to be the sheriff of the county, insisted upon
+accompanying him back to the cottage, and aiding him to discover its
+mysterious purpose. It might be a silly plot of some silly boy, but that
+did not seem at all probable, as Arthur was so universally respected and
+beloved&mdash;and such was the dignity and affability of his character, that
+no one would think of playing upon him a foolish and insulting trick.</p>
+
+<p>The distance was not great, and they walked with rapid footsteps over
+the crisp and frozen ground. Around the cabin, the snow formed a thick
+carpet, which, lying in shade, had not been glazed, like the general
+surface of the landscape. Their steps did not resound on this white
+covering, and instead of crossing the stile in front of the cabin, they
+vaulted over the fence and approached the door by a side path. The
+moment Arthur laid his hand upon the latch he knew some one had entered
+the house during his absence, for he had closed the door, and now it was
+ajar. With one bound he cleared the passage, and Mr. Mason, who was a
+tall and strong man, was not left much in the rear. The inner door was
+not latched, and opened at the touch. The current of air which rushed in
+with their sudden entrance rolled into the chimney, and the fire flashed
+up and roared, illuminating every object within. Near the centre of the
+room stood a man, wrapped in a dark cloak that completely concealed his
+figure, a dark mask covering his face, and a fur cap pulled deep over
+his forehead. He stood by the side of Miss Thu<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span>sa&#8217;s wheel, which
+presented the appearance of a ruin, with its brazen bands wrenched
+asunder, and its fragments strewed upon the floor. He was evidently
+arrested in the act of destruction, for one hand grasped the distaff,
+the other clinched something which he sought to conceal in the folds of
+his cloak.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Thusa, partly raised on her elbow, which shook and trembled from
+the weight it supported, was gazing with impotent despair on her
+dismembered wheel. A dim fire quivered in her sunken eyes, and her
+sharpened and prominent features were made still more ghastly by the
+opaque frame-work of white linen that surrounded them. She was uttering
+faint and broken ejaculations.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Monster&mdash;robber!&mdash;my treasure! Take the gold&mdash;take it, but spare my
+wheel! Poor Helen! I gave it to her! Poor child! It&#8217;s she you are
+robbing, not me! Oh, my God! my heart-strings are breaking! My wheel,
+that I loved like a human being! Lord, Lord, have mercy upon me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>These piteous exclamations met the ear of Arthur as he entered the room,
+and roused all the latent wrath of his nature. He forgot every thing but
+the dark, masked figure which, gathering up its cloak, sprang towards
+the door, with the intention of escaping, but an iron grasp held it
+back. Seldom, indeed, were the strong but subdued passions of Arthur
+Hazleton suffered to master him, but now they had the ascendency. He
+never thought of calling on Mr. Mason to assist him quietly in securing
+the robber, as he might have done, but yielding to an irresistible
+impulse of vengeance, he grappled fiercely with the mask, who writhed
+and struggled in his unclinching hold. Something fell rattling on the
+floor, and continued to rattle as the strife went on. Mr. Mason, knowing
+that by virtue of his authority he could arrest the offender at once,
+looked on with that strange pleasure which men feel in witnessing scenes
+of conflict. He was astonished at the transformation of the young
+doctor. He had always seen him so calm and gentle in the chamber of
+sickness, so peaceful in his intercourse with his fellow-men, that he
+did not know the lamb could be thus changed into the lion.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span>Arthur had now effected his object, in unmasking and uncloaking his
+antagonist, and he found himself face to face with&mdash;Bryant Clinton. The
+young men stood gazing at each other for a few moments in perfect
+silence. They were both of an ashy paleness, and their eyes glittered
+under the shadow of their darkened brows. But Clinton could not long
+sustain that steadfast, victor glance. His own wavered and fell, and the
+blood swept over his face in a reddening wave.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let me go,&#8221; said he, in a low, husky voice, &#8220;I am in your power; but be
+magnanimous and release me. I throw myself on your generosity, not your
+justice.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Arthur&#8217;s sternly upbraiding eye softened into an expression of the
+deepest sorrow, not unmingled with contempt, on beholding the
+degradation of this splendidly endowed young man. He reminded him of a
+fallen angel, with his glorious plumage all soiled and polluted with the
+mire and corruption of earth. He never had had faith in his integrity;
+be believed him to be the tempter of Louis, the deceiver of Mittie,
+reckless and unprincipled where pleasure was concerned, but he did not
+believe him capable of such a daring transgression. Had he been alone,
+he would have released him, for his magnanimity and generosity would
+have triumphed over his sense of justice, but legal authority was
+present, and to that he was forced to submit.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<em>I</em> arrest you, sir, in virtue of my authority as sheriff of the
+county,&#8221; exclaimed Mr. Mason; &#8220;empty your pockets of the gold you have
+purloined from this woman, and then follow me. Quick, or I&#8217;ll give you
+rough aid.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The pomp and aristocracy of Clinton&#8217;s appearance and manners had made
+him unpopular in the neighborhood, and it is not strange that a man whom
+he had never condescended to notice should triumph in his disgrace. He
+looked on with vindictive pleasure while Clinton, after a useless
+resistance, produced the gold he had secreted, but Arthur turned away
+his head in shame. He could not bear to witness the depth of his
+degradation. His cheek burned with painful blushes, as the gold clinked
+on the table, ringing forth the tale of Clinton&#8217;s guilt.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now, sir, come along,&#8221; cried the stern voice of the sheriff. &#8220;Doctor, I
+leave the care of this to you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span>While he was speaking, he drew a pair of hand-cuffs from his pocket,
+which he had slipped in before leaving home, thinking they might come in
+use.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You shall not degrade me thus!&#8221; exclaimed Clinton, haughtily, writhing
+in his grasp; &#8220;you shall never put those vile things on me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Softly, softly, young gentleman,&#8221; cried the sheriff, &#8220;I shall hurt your
+fair wrists if you don&#8217;t stand still. There, that will do. Come along.
+No halting.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Arthur gave one glance towards the retreating form of Clinton, as he
+passed through the door, with his haughty head now drooping on his
+breast, wearing the iron badge of crime, and groaned in spirit, that so
+fair a temple should not be occupied by a nobler indwelling guest. So
+rapidly had the scene passed, so still and lone seemed the apartment,
+for Miss Thusa had sunk back on her pillow mute and exhausted, that he
+was tempted to believe that it was nothing but a dream. But the wheel
+lay in fragments at his feet, the gold lay in shining heaps upon the
+table, and a dark mask grinned from the floor. That gold, too!&mdash;how
+dream-like its existence! Was Miss Thusa a female Midas or Aladdin? Was
+the dull brass lamp burning on the table, the gift of the genii? Was the
+old gray cabin a witch&#8217;s magic home?</p>
+
+<p>Rousing himself with a strong effort, he examined the condition of his
+patient, and was grieved to find how greatly this shock had accelerated
+the work of disease. Her pulse was faint and flickering, her skin cold
+and clammy, but after swallowing a cordial, and inhaling the strong odor
+of hartshorn, a reaction took place, and she revived astonishingly; but
+when she spoke, her mind evidently wandered, sometimes into the shadows
+of the past, sometimes into the light of the future.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What shall I do with this?&#8221; asked Arthur, pointing to the gold, anxious
+to bring her thoughts to some central point; &#8220;and these, too?&#8221; stooping
+down and picking up a fragment of the wheel.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Screw it up again&mdash;screw it up,&#8221; she replied, quickly, &#8220;and put the
+gold back in it. &#8217;Tis Helen&#8217;s&mdash;all little Helen&#8217;s. Don&#8217;t let them rob
+her after I&#8217;m dead.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Rejoicing to hear her speak so rationally, though wonder<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span>ing if what she
+said of Helen was not the imagining of a disordered brain, he began to
+examine the pieces of the wheel, and found that with the exertion of a
+little skill he could put them together again, and that it was only some
+slender parts of the machine which were broken. He placed the money in
+its hollow receptacles, united the brazen rings, and smoothed the
+tangled flax that twined the distaff. Ever and anon Miss Thusa turned
+her fading glance towards him, and murmured,</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is good. It is good!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>For more than an hour she lay perfectly still, when suddenly moving, she
+exclaimed,</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Put away the curtain&mdash;it&#8217;s too dark.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Arthur drew aside the curtain from the window nearest the bed, and the
+pale, cold moonlight came in, in white, shining bars, and striped the
+dark counterpane. One fell across Miss Thusa&#8217;s face, and illuminated it
+with a strange and ghastly lustre.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Has the moon gone down?&#8221; she asked. &#8220;I thought it stayed till morning
+in the sky. But my glasses are getting wondrous dim. I must have a new
+pair, doctor. How slow the wheel turns round; the band keeps slipping
+off, and the crank goes creaking, creaking, for want of oil. Little
+Helen, take your feet off the treadle, and don&#8217;t sit so close, darling.
+I can&#8217;t breathe.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She panted a few moments, catching her breath with difficulty, then
+tossing her arms above the bed-cover, said, in a fainter voice,</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The great wheel of eternity keeps rolling on, and we are all bound upon
+it. How grandly it moves, and all the time the flax on the distaff is
+smoking. God says in the Bible He will not quench it, but blow it to a
+flame. You&#8217;ve read the Bible, havn&#8217;t you, doctor? It is a powerful book.
+It tells about Moses and the Lamb. I&#8217;ll tell you a story, Helen, about a
+Lamb that was slain. I&#8217;ve told you a great many, but never one like
+this. Come nearer, for I can&#8217;t speak very loud. Take care, the thread is
+sliding off the spool. Cut it, doctor, cut it; it&#8217;s winding round my
+heart so tight! Oh, my God! it snaps in two!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>These were the last words the aged spinster ever uttered.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> The
+main-spring of life was broken. When the cold, gray light of morning had
+extinguished the pallid splendor of the moon, and one by one the objects
+in the little room came forth from the dimness of shade, which a single
+lamp had not power to disperse, a great change was visible. The dark
+covering of the bed was removed, the bed itself was gone&mdash;but through a
+snowy white sheet that was spread over the frame, the outline of a tall
+form was visible. All was silent as the grave. A woman sat by the
+hearth, with a grave and solemn countenance&mdash;so grave and so solemn she
+seemed a fixture in that still apartment. The wheel stood still by the
+bed-frame, the spectacles lay still on the Bible, and a dark, gray dress
+hung in still, dreary folds against the wall.</p>
+
+<p>After a while the woman rose, and walking on tiptoe, holding her breath
+as she walked, pulled the sheet a little further one side. Foolish
+woman! had she stepped with the thunderer&#8217;s tread, she could not have
+disturbed the cold sleeper, covered with that snowy sheet.</p>
+
+<p>Two or three hours after, the door opened and the young doctor entered
+with a young girl clinging to his arm. She was weeping, and as soon as
+she caught a glimpse of the white sheet she burst into loud sobs.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We will relieve you of your watch a short time,&#8221; said Arthur; and the
+woman left the room. He led Helen to the bedside, and turning back the
+sheet, exposed the venerable features composed into everlasting repose.
+Helen did not recoil or tremble as she gazed. She even hushed her sobs,
+as if fearing to ruffle the inexpressible placidity of that dreamless
+rest. Every trace of harshness was removed from the countenance, and a
+serene melancholy reigned in its stead. A smile far more gentle than she
+ever wore in life, lingered on the wan and frozen lips.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How benign she looks,&#8221; ejaculated Helen, &#8220;how happy! I could gaze
+forever on that peaceful, silent face&mdash;and yet I once thought death so
+terrible.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Life is far more fearful, Helen. Life, with all its feverish unrest,
+its sinful strife, its storms of passion and its waves of sorrow. Oh,
+had you beheld the scene which I last night witnessed in this very
+room&mdash;a scene in which life revelled in wildest power, you would tremble
+at the thought of possess<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span>ing a vitality capable of such unholy
+excitement&mdash;you would envy the quietude of that unbreathing bosom.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And yet,&#8221; said Helen, &#8220;I have often heard you speak of life as an
+inestimable, a glorious gift, as so rich a blessing that the single
+heart had not room to contain the gratitude due.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And so it is, Helen, if rightly used. I am wrong to give it so dark a
+coloring&mdash;ungrateful, because my own experience is bright beyond the
+common lot&mdash;unwise, for I should not sadden your views by anticipation.
+Yes, if life is fearful from its responsibilities, it <em>is</em> glorious in
+its hopes and rich in its joys. Its mysteries only increase its
+grandeur, and prove its divine origin.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Thus Arthur continued to talk to Helen, sustaining and elevating her
+thoughts, till she forgot that she came in sorrow and tears.</p>
+
+<p>There was another, who came, when he thought none was near, to pay the
+last tribute of sorrow over the remains of Miss Thusa, and that was
+Louis. He thought of his last interview with her, and her last words
+reverberated in his ear in the silence of that lonely room&mdash;&#8220;In the name
+of your mother in Heaven, go and sin no more.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Louis sunk upon his knees by that cold and voiceless form, and vowed, in
+the strength of the Lord, to obey her parting injunction. He could never
+now repay the debt he owed, but he could do more&mdash;he could be just to
+himself and the memory of her who had opened her lips wisely to reprove,
+and her hand kindly to relieve.</p>
+
+<p>Peace be to thee, ancient sibyl, lonely dweller of the old gray cottage.
+No more shall thy busy fingers twist with curious skill the flaxen
+fibres that wreath thy distaff&mdash;no more shall the hum of thy wheel
+mingle in chorus with the buzzing of the fly and the chirping of the
+cricket. But as thou didst say in thy dying hour, &#8220;the great wheel of
+eternity keeps rolling on,&#8221; and thou art borne along with it, no longer
+a solitary, weary pilgrim, without an arm to sustain or kindred heart to
+cheer, but we humbly trust, one of that innumerable, glorious company,
+who, clothed in white robes and bearing branching palms, sing the great
+praise-song that never shall end, &#8220;Allelulia&mdash;the Lord God omnipotent
+reigneth.&#8221;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Come, madness! come unto me senseless death,<br />
+I cannot suffer this! here, rocky wall,<br />
+Scatter these brains, or dull them.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Baillie.</cite></p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;I know not, I ask not,<br />
+<span class="i1">If guilt&#8217;s in thy heart&mdash;</span><br />
+I but know that I love thee,<br />
+<span class="i1">Whatever thou art.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Moore.</cite></span></p>
+
+
+<p class="firstpar"><span class="smcap">In</span> a dark and gloomy apartment, whose grated windows and dreary walls
+were hung here and there with blackening cobwebs&mdash;and whose darkness and
+gloom were made visible by the pale rays of a glimmering lamp, sat the
+young, the handsome, the graceful, the fascinating Bryant Clinton. He
+sat, or rather partly reclined on the straw pallet, spread in a corner
+of the room, propped on one elbow, with his head drooping downward, and
+his long hair hanging darkly over his face, as if seeking to veil his
+misery and shame.</p>
+
+<p>It was a poor place for such an occupant. He was a young man of leisure
+now, and had time to reflect on the past, the present, and the future.</p>
+
+<p>The past!&mdash;golden opportunities, lost by neglect, swept away by
+temptation, or sold to sin. The present!&mdash;detection, humiliation, and
+ignominy. The future!&mdash;long and dreary imprisonment&mdash;companionship with
+the vilest of the vile, his home a tomb-like cell in the
+penitentiary&mdash;his food, bread and water&mdash;his bed, a handful of
+straw&mdash;his dress, the felon&#8217;s garb of shame&mdash;his magnificent hair shorn
+close as the slaughtered sheep&#8217;s&mdash;his soft white hands condemned to
+perpetual labor!</p>
+
+<p>As this black scroll slowly unrolled before his spirit&#8217;s eye, this black
+scroll, on which the characters and images gleamed forth so red and
+fiery, it is no wonder that he writhed and groaned and gnashed his
+teeth&mdash;it is no wonder that he started up and trod the narrow cell with
+the step of a maniac<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span>&mdash;that he stopped and ground his heel in the
+dust&mdash;that he rushed to the window and shook the iron bars, with
+unavailing rage&mdash;that he called on God to help him&mdash;not in the fervor of
+faith, but the recklessness of frenzy, the impotence of despair.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a deadly sickness came over him, and reeling back to his
+pallet, he buried his face in his hands and wept aloud&mdash;and the wail of
+his soul was that of the first doomed transgressor, &#8220;My punishment is
+greater than I can bear.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>While there he lies, a prey to keen and unavailing agonies, we will take
+a backward glance at the romance of his childhood, and the temptations
+of his youth.</p>
+
+<p>Bryant Clinton was the son of obscure parents. When a little boy, his
+remarkable beauty attracted the admiration of every beholder. He was the
+pet of the village school, the favorite on the village green. His
+intelligence and grace were equal to his beauty, and all of these
+attributes combined in one of his lowly birth, seemed so miraculous, he
+was universally admitted to be a prodigy&mdash;a nonpareil. When he was about
+ten years of age, a gentleman of wealth and high social standing, was
+passing through the town, and, like all strangers, was struck by the
+remarkable appearance of the boy. This gentleman was unmarried, though
+in the meridian of life, and of course, uncontrolled master of all his
+movements. He was very peculiar in character, and his impulses, rather
+than his principles, guided his actions. He did not love his relatives,
+because he thought their attentions were venal, and resolved to adopt
+this beautiful boy, not so much from feelings of benevolence towards
+him, as a desire to disappoint his mercenary kindred. Bryant&#8217;s natural
+affections were not strong enough to prove any impediment to the
+stranger&#8217;s wish, and his parents were willing to sacrifice theirs, for
+the brilliant advantages offered to their son. Behold our young prodigy
+transplanted to a richer soil, and a more genial atmosphere. His
+benefactor resided in a great city, far from the little village where he
+was born, so that all the associations of his childhood were broken up
+and destroyed. He even took the name of his adopted father, thus losing
+his own identity. Had Mr. Clinton been a man of pure and upright
+principles, had he been faithful to the guardianship he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> had assumed,
+and educated his <em>heart</em>, as well as his mind, Bryant might have been
+the ornament instead of the disgrace, the blessing instead of the bane
+of society. He had no salient propensities to evil, no faults which
+righteous wisdom might not have disciplined. But indulged, caressed,
+praised and admired by all around him, the selfishness inherent in our
+nature, acquired a hot-bed growth from the sultry moral atmosphere which
+he breathed.</p>
+
+<p>The gentle, yet restraining influence which woman, in her purity and
+excellence, ever exerts, was unfortunately denied him. Mr. Clinton was a
+bachelor, and the careful, bustling housekeeper, who kept his servants
+and house in order, was not likely to burden herself with the charge of
+young Bryant&#8217;s morals. All that Mr. Clinton supervised, was his progress
+at school, which surpassed even his most sanguine expectations. He was
+still the prodigy&mdash;the nonpareil&mdash;and as he had the most winning,
+insinuating manners&mdash;he was still the favorite of teachers and pupils.
+As he grew older, he was taken much into society, and young as he was,
+inhaled, with the most intense delight, the incense of female adulation.
+The smiles and caresses bestowed upon the boy-paragon by beautiful and
+charming women, instead of fostering his affections, as they would have
+done, had they been lavished upon him for his virtues rather than his
+graces, gave precocious growth and vigor to his vanity, till, like the
+cedar of Lebanon, it towered above all other passions. This vanity was
+only visible to others in an earnest desire to please&mdash;it only made him
+appear more amiable and gentle, but it was so strong, so vital, that it
+could not, &#8220;but by annihilating, die.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Another fatal influence acted upon him. Mr. Clinton, like most rich
+bachelors, was fond of having convivial suppers, where wine and mirth
+abounded. To these young Bryant was often admitted, for his beauty and
+talents were the pride and boast of his adopted father. Here he was
+initiated into the secrets of the gaming-table, not by practice, (for he
+was not allowed to play himself,) but by observation, a medium of
+instruction sufficiently transparent to his acute and subtle mind. Here
+he was accustomed to hear the name of God uttered either in irreverence
+or blasphemy, and the cold sneer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> of infidelity withered the germs of
+piety a mother&#8217;s hand had planted in his bosom. Better, far better had
+it been for him, never to have left his parent&#8217;s humble but honest
+dwelling.</p>
+
+<p>Just as he was about to enter college, Mr. Clinton suddenly died of a
+stroke of apoplexy, leaving the youth whom he had adopted, exposed to
+the persecutions of his worldly and venal relatives. He had resolved to
+make a will, bequeathing his property to Bryant, as his sole heir; but
+having a great horror of death, he could not bear to perform the act
+which would remind him too painfully of his mortality.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Time enough when I am taken sick,&#8221; he would say, &#8220;to attend to these
+things;&#8221; but the blow which announced the coming of death, crushed the
+citadel of thought. There was no time for making wills, and Bryant was
+left far poorer than his adopted father had found him, for he had
+acquired all the tastes which wealth alone can gratify, and all the
+vices, too.</p>
+
+<p>When he returned, reluctant and disappointed, with alienated feelings,
+to his native home, he found that his father was dead, and his mother a
+solitary widow. By selling the little farm which had served them for a
+support, and restricting herself of every luxury, and many comforts, she
+could defray the expenses of a collegiate education, and this she
+resolved to do. Bryant accepted the sacrifice without hesitation,
+deeming it his legitimate right.</p>
+
+<p>On his way to the university, which was still more remote from his
+native village than that was from the home of his adopted father, he
+conceived the design of imposing upon his new companions the story of
+his Virginian birth&mdash;though born in reality in one of the Middle States.
+He had heard so much of Virginian aristocracy, of the pride of tracing
+one&#8217;s descent from one of the <em>first families</em> of Virginia, that he
+thought it a pardonable deception if it increased his dignity and
+consequence. He was ashamed of his parentage, which was concealed under
+the somewhat patrician name of Clinton, and as he chose to change his
+birth-place, it was not very probable that his real origin would be
+discovered. He had previously ascertained that no boys were members of
+the college, who had ever seen him before, or who knew any thing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> of the
+region where he had dwelt. He soon became a star-scholar, from the
+brilliancy of his talents, and a favorite, too, from the graceful
+pliancy of his manners, and apparent sweetness of his disposition. But
+with all his grace and sweetness, he was unprincipled and dissolute, and
+exerted the commanding influence he had acquired over the minds of his
+companions, to lead them into temptation, and lure them to sin. Yet he
+had the art to appear himself the tempted, as well as they. His agency
+was as invisible as it was powerful, and as fatal, too. When, with
+seeming reluctance, he took his seat at the gaming-table and won, as he
+invariably did, from his unsuspecting comrades, he manifested the
+deepest regret and keenest remorse. No one suspected that it was through
+his instrumentality they were seduced into error and ruin.</p>
+
+<p>Louis, the impulsive, warm-hearted, and confiding Louis Gleason, was
+drawn as if by fascination towards this young man. There was a luminous
+atmosphere around him, that dazzled the judgment, and rendered it blind
+to his moral defects. Dissipation appeared covered with a golden tissue,
+that concealed all its deformity; and reckless prodigality received the
+honors due to princely generosity.</p>
+
+<p>When Clinton accompanied Louis to his father&#8217;s house, and beheld the
+beautiful Mittie, gilt, as he first saw her by the rays of the setting
+sun, he gave her the spontaneous homage which beauty ever received from
+him. He admired and for a little time imagined he loved her. But she was
+too easy a conquest to elate his vanity, and he soon wearied of her too
+exacting love. Helen, the shy, child-like, simple hearted Helen, baffled
+and interested him. She shunned and feared him, and therefore he pursued
+her with increasing fervor of feeling and earnestness of purpose.
+Finding himself terribly annoyed by Mittie&#8217;s frantic jealousy, he
+resolved to absent himself awhile till the tempest he had raised was
+lulled, and urging Louis to be his companion, that he might have a plea
+for returning, departed, as has been described, not to his pretended
+home, but to haunts of guilty pleasure, where the deluded Louis
+followed, believing in his infatuation that he was only walking side by
+side with one sorely tempted, reluctantly transgressing, and as oft
+repenting as himself.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span>With the native chivalry of his character, he refused to criminate his
+<em>friend</em>, and justify his father&#8217;s anger. It was to Clinton <em>his debts
+of honor</em> were chiefly due, and it was for this reason he shrunk from
+revealing them to his father.</p>
+
+<p>When Clinton found himself excluded from the presence of Helen, whose
+love he was resolved to win, his indignation and mortification were
+indescribable; but acknowledging no obstacles to his designs, he watched
+his opportunity and entered Miss Thusa&#8217;s cabin, as we have related in
+the last chapter. He was no actor in that interview, for he really felt
+for Helen, emotions purer, deeper and stronger than he had ever before
+cherished for woman. He had likewise all the stimulus of rivalry, for he
+believed that Arthur Hazleton loved her, that calm, self-possessed and
+inscrutable being, whose dark, spirit-reaching eye his own had ever
+shunned. Helen&#8217;s unaffected terror, her repulsion and flight were
+wormwood and gall to his pampered vanity and starving love. Her
+undisguised emotion at the mention of Arthur, convinced him of his
+ascendency over her heart, and the hopelessness of his present pursuit.
+Still he lingered near the spot, unwilling to relinquish an object that
+seemed more and more precious as the difficulty of obtaining it
+increased. He stood by the window, watching, at times, glimpses of
+Helen&#8217;s sweet, yet troubled countenance, as the curtain flapped in the
+wintry wind. It was then he heard Miss Thusa relate the secret of her
+hidden wealth, and the demon of temptation whispered in his ear that the
+hidden gold might be his. Helen cared not for it&mdash;she knew not its
+value, she needed it not. Very likely when the wheel should come into
+her possession, and she examined its mystery, if the legacy were
+missing, she would believe its history the dream of an excited
+imagination, and think of it no more. He had never stolen, and it did
+seem low and ungentlemanlike to steal, but this was more like finding
+some buried treasure, something cast up from the ocean&#8217;s bed. It was not
+so criminal after all as cheating at the gaming-table, which he was in
+the constant habit of doing. Then why should he hesitate if opportunity
+favored his design? Mr. Gleason had insulted him in the grossest manner,
+Helen had rejected him, Louis had released himself from his thraldom.
+There was no motive for him to remain longer where he was,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> and he was
+assured suspicion would never rest on him, though he took his immediate
+departure. The next night he attempted to execute his shameful purpose
+by forging the note, sending it by an unsuspecting messenger, thus
+despatching the young doctor, on a professional errand. Every thing
+seemed to favor him. The woman whom Arthur had commanded to keep watch
+during his absence had sunk back into a heavy sleep as soon as his voice
+died on her ear&mdash;so there was nothing to impede the robber&#8217;s entrance.
+Clinton waited till he thought Arthur had had time to reach the place of
+his destination, and then stole into the sick chamber with noiseless
+steps. Miss Thusa was awakened by a metallic, grating sound, and beheld,
+with unspeakable horror, her beloved wheel lying in fragments at the
+feet of the spoiler. The detection, the arrest, the imprisonment are
+already known.</p>
+
+<p>And now the unhappy young man lay on his bed of straw, in an ignominious
+cell, cursing the gold that had tempted, and the weakness and folly that
+had yielded and rushed into the snare. Louis had visited him, but his
+visit had afforded no consolation. What was pity or sympathy without the
+power to release him? Nothing, yea, worse than nothing. He could not
+tell the hour, for time, counted by the throbs of an agonized heart,
+seems to have the attribute of eternity&mdash;endless duration. He knew it
+was night by the lamp which had been brought in with the bread and
+water, which stood untasted by him. He had not noticed the darkening
+shadow stealing over the grated windows, his soul was so dark within. He
+knew, too, that it must be somewhat late, for the lamp grew dimmer and
+dimmer, capped by a long, black wick, with a hard, fiery crest.</p>
+
+<p>He heard the key twisting in the rusted lock, the door swinging heavily
+open, and supposed the jailor was examining the cells before retiring to
+rest. He was confirmed in this belief by seeing his figure through the
+opening, but when another figure glided in, and the jailor retreated,
+locking the door behind him, he knew that his prison had received an
+unexpected guest. He could not imagine what young boy had thought of
+visiting his cell, for he knew not one of the age this youth appeared to
+be. He was wrapped in a dark<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> cloak, so long that it swept the prison
+floor, and a dark fur cap pulled far over the forehead, shaded his face.</p>
+
+<p>Clinton raised himself on his elbow and called out, in a gloomy tone,
+&#8220;Who is there?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The youth advanced with slow steps, gathering up the sweeping folds of
+his cloak as he walked, and sunk down upon the wooden bench placed
+against the damp brick wall. Lifting his hands and clasping them
+together, he bowed his face upon them, while his frame shook with
+imprisoned emotion. The hands clasped over his face gleamed like snow in
+the dim cell, and they were small and delicate in shape, as a woman&#8217;s.
+The dejected and drooping attitude, the downcast face, the shrouded and
+trembling form, the feminine shame visible through the disguise,
+awakened a wild hope in his heart. Springing up from his pallet, he
+eagerly approached the seeming boy, and exclaimed&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Helen, Helen&mdash;have you relented at last? Do you pity and forgive me? Do
+you indeed love me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ungrateful wretch!&#8221; cried a voice far different from Helen&#8217;s. The
+drooping head was quickly raised, the cap dashed from the head, and the
+cloak hurled from the shoulders. &#8220;Ungrateful wretch, as false as vile,
+do you know me now?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mittie! is it indeed you?&#8221; said Clinton, involuntarily recoiling a few
+steps from the fiery glance that flashed through her tears. &#8220;I am not
+worthy of this condescension.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Condescension!&#8221; repeated she, disdainfully. &#8220;Condescension! Yes&mdash;you
+say well. You did not expect me!&#8221; continued she, in a tone of withering
+sarcasm. &#8220;I am sorry for your disappointment. I am sorry the gentle
+Helen did not see fit to leave her downy bed, and warm room, braving the
+inclemency of the wintry blast, to minister to her waiting lover. It is
+a wondrous pity.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Then changing her accent, and bursting into a strain of the most
+impassioned emotion&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, my soul! was it for this I came forth alone, in darkness and
+stealth, like the felon whose den I sought? Is it on such a being as
+this, I have wasted such boundless wealth of love? Father, mother,
+brother, sister&mdash;all vainly urged<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> their claims upon my heart. It was
+marble&mdash;it was ice to them. They thought I was made of stone, granite;
+would to Heaven I were. But you, Clinton; but you breathed upon the
+rock, you softened, you warmed; and now, wretch, you grind it into
+powder. You melted the ice&mdash;and having drained the waters, you have left
+a dry and burning channel&mdash;here.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mittie pressed her hand upon her heart, with a gesture of pain, and
+began to traverse wildly the narrow cell; her cloak, which had fallen
+back from her shoulders, sweeping in the dust. Every passion was
+wrestling for mastery in her bosom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why,&#8221; she exclaimed, suddenly stopping and gazing fixedly upon him,
+&#8220;why did you make me conscious of this terrible vitality? What motive
+had you for crossing my path, and like Attila, the destroyer, withering
+every green blade beneath my feet? I had never wronged you. What motive,
+I ask, had you for deceiving and mocking me, who so madly trusted, so
+blindly worshipped?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Spare me, Mittie,&#8221; exclaimed the humbled and convicted Clinton.
+&#8220;Trample not on a fallen wretch, who has nothing to say in his defence.
+But one thing I will say, I have not intended to deceive you. I did love
+you, and felt at the time all that I professed. Had you loved me less, I
+had been more constant. But why, let me ask, have you sought me here, to
+upbraid me for my inconstancy? What good can it do to you or to me? You
+call me a wretch: and I acknowledge myself to be one, a vile, ungrateful
+wretch. Call me a thief, if you will, if the word does not blister your
+tongue to utter it. I confess it all. Now leave me to my fate.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Confess one thing more,&#8221; said Mittie, &#8220;speak to me as if it were your
+dying hour&mdash;for you will soon be dead to me, and tell me, if it is for
+the love of Helen you abandon mine?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Clinton hesitated, a red color flushed his pallid cheek. He could not at
+that moment, in the presence of such deep and true passion, utter a
+falsehood; and degraded as he was, he could not bear to inflict the pain
+an avowal of the truth might cause.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Speak,&#8221; she urged, &#8220;and speak truly. It is all the atonement I ask.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span>&#8220;My love can only reflect disgrace on its object. Rejoice that it rests
+on her, rather than yourself. But she has avenged your wrongs. She
+rejected me before my hand was polluted with this last foul crime. She
+upbraided me for my perfidy to you, and fled from my sight with horror.
+Had she loved me, I might have been saved&mdash;but I am lost now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mittie stood immovable as a statue. Her eyes were fixed upon the floor,
+her brow contracted and her lips firmly closed. She appeared to be going
+through a petrifying process, so marble was her complexion, so rigid her
+features, so unchanging her attitude.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;&#8217;Twas but a moment o&#8217;er her soul<br />
+Winters of memory seemed to roll,&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="noindent">congealing her as they rolled. As Clinton looked upon her and contrasted
+that pale and altered form, with the resplendent figure that he had
+beheld like an embodied rainbow on the sun-gilded arch, his conscience
+stung him with a scorpion sting. He had said to himself, while parlying
+with the tempter about the gold, that he had never <em>stolen</em>. He now felt
+convicted of a far worse robbery, of a more inexpiable crime&mdash;for which
+God, if not man, would judge him&mdash;the theft of a young and trusting
+heart, of its peace, its confidence and hope, leaving behind a cold and
+dreary void. He could not bear the sight of that desolate figure, so
+lately quickened with glowing passions.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Clinton,&#8221; said Mittie, breaking the silence in a low, oppressed voice,
+&#8220;I see you have one virtue left, of the wreck of all others. I honor
+that one. You asked me why I came. I will tell you. I knew you guilty,
+steeped in ignominy, the scorn and by-word of the town, guilty too of a
+crime more vile than murder, for murder may be committed from the wild
+impulse of exasperated passion&mdash;but theft is a cold, deliberate,
+selfish, coward act. Yet knowing all this, I felt willing to brave every
+danger, to face death itself, if it were necessary, to release you from
+the horrid doom that awaits you&mdash;to save you from the living grave which
+yawns to receive you. I am willing still, in spite of your alienated
+affection, your perjured vows and broken faith&mdash;so mighty and
+all-conquering is even the memory of the love of woman.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> Here, wrap this
+cloak about you, pull this cap over your brows&mdash;your long, dark hair
+will aid the disguise. The jailer will not detect it, or mark your
+taller figure, by this dim and gloomy light. He is sleepy and weary, and
+I know his senses are deadened by brandy; I perceived its burning fumes
+as we walked that close and narrow passage. Clinton, there is no danger
+to myself in this release, you know there is not. The moment they
+discover me, they will let me go. Hasten, for he will soon be here.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Impossible,&#8221; exclaimed Clinton, &#8220;I cannot consent; I cannot leave you
+in this cell&mdash;this cold, fireless cell, on such a night as this. I
+cannot expose you to your father&#8217;s displeasure, to the censures of the
+world. No, Mittie, I am not worthy of this generous devotion; but from
+my soul I bless you for it. Besides, it would be all in vain. A
+discovery would be inevitable.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Escape would be certain,&#8221; she cried, with increasing energy. &#8220;I marked
+that jailer well&mdash;his senses are too much blunted for the exercise of
+clear perception. You are slender and not very tall; your face is as
+fair as mine, your hair of the same color. If you refuse, I will seek a
+colder couch than that pallet of straw; I will pass the night under the
+leafless trees, and my pillow shall be the snowy ground. As for my
+father&#8217;s displeasure, I have incurred it already. As for the censures of
+the world, I scorn them. What do you call the world? This village, this
+town, this little, narrow sphere? I live in a world of my own, as high
+above it as the heavens are above the earth.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Clinton&#8217;s opposition weakened before her commanding energy. The hope of
+freedom kindled in his breast, and lighted up his countenance.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But you,&#8221; said he, irresolutely, &#8220;even if you could endure the horrors
+of the night, cannot be concealed on his entrance. How can you pass for
+me?&#8221; he cried, looking down on her woman&#8217;s apparel, for she had thrown
+the cloak over his arm, and stood in her own flowing robes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I will throw myself on the pallet, and draw the blankets over me. My
+sable locks,&#8221; gathering them back in her hand, for they hung loosely
+round her face&mdash;&#8220;are almost the counterpart of yours. I can conceal
+their length thus.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span>&#8221; Untying the scarf which passed over her shoulders
+and encircled her waist, she folded it over her flowing hair. &#8220;When the
+blanket is over me,&#8221; she added, &#8220;I shall escape detection. Hasten! Think
+of the long years of imprisonment, the solitary dungeon, the clanking
+chains, the iron that will daily enter your soul. Think of all this, and
+fly! Hark! I hear footsteps in the passage. Don&#8217;t you hear them? My God!
+it will be too late!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Seizing the cloak, she threw it over his shoulders, snatched up the cap,
+and put it upon his head, which involuntarily bent to receive it, and
+wildly tearing herself from the arms that wrapped her in a parting
+embrace, sprang to the pallet, and shrouded herself in the dismal folds
+from which Clinton had shrunk in disgust.</p>
+
+<p>Clinton drew near the door. It opened, and Arthur Hazleton entered the
+cell. The jailer stood on the outside, fumbling at the lock, turning the
+massy key backward and forward, making a harsh, creaking sound. His head
+was bent close to the lock, in which there appeared to be some
+impediment. The noise which he made with the grating key, the stooping
+position he had assumed, favored the escape of Clinton.</p>
+
+<p>As Arthur entered, he glided out, unperceived by him, for the jailer had
+brought no light, and the prisoner was standing in the shadow of the
+wall.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There,&#8221; grumbled the jailer, &#8220;I believe that will do&mdash;I must have this
+lock fixed to-morrow. Here, doctor, take the key, I can trust <em>you</em>, I
+know. When you are ready to go, drop it in my room, just underneath
+this. I mean drop in, and give it to me, I am sick to-night. I am
+obliged to go to bed.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Arthur assured him that he would attend faithfully to his directions,
+and that he might retire in perfect security. Then locking the door
+within, he walked towards the pallet, where the supposed form of the
+prisoner lay, in the stillness of dissembled sleep. His face was turned
+towards the straw, the bed cover was drawn up over his neck, nothing was
+distinctly visible in the obscurity but a mass of dark, gleaming hair,
+reflecting back the dim light from its jetty mirror.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span>Arthur did not like to banish from his couch, that</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Friend to the wretch, whom every friend forsakes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="noindent">He seated himself on the bench, folded his cloak around him, and awaited
+in silence the awakening of the prisoner. He had come, in obedience to
+the commands of his Divine Master, to visit those who are in prison, and
+minister unto them. Not as Mittie had done, to assist him in eluding the
+just penalty of the offended majesty of the laws. He did not believe the
+perpetrator of such a crime as Clinton&#8217;s entitled to pardon, but he
+looked upon every son of Adam as a brother, and as such an object of
+pity and kindness.</p>
+
+<p>While he sat gazing on the pallet, watching for the first motion that
+would indicate the dispersion of slumber, he heard a cough issuing from
+it, which his practiced ear at once recognized as proceeding from a
+woman&#8217;s lungs. A suspicion of the truth flashed into his mind. He rose,
+bent over the couch, and taking hold of the covering, endeavored to draw
+it back from the face it shrouded. He could see the white hands that
+clinched it, and a tress of long, waving hair, loosened by the motion,
+floated on his sight.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mittie&mdash;Mittie Gleason!&#8221; he exclaimed, bending on one knee, and trying
+to raise her&mdash;&#8220;how came you here? Yet, why do I ask? I know but too
+well&mdash;Clinton has escaped&mdash;and you&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<em>I am here!</em>&#8221; she cried, starting to her feet, and shaking back her
+hair, which fell in a sable mantle over her shoulders, flowing far below
+the waist. &#8220;I am here. What do you wish of me? I am not prepared to
+receive company just yet,&#8221; she added, deridingly; &#8220;my room is rather
+unfurnished.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She looked so wild and unnatural, her tone was so mocking, her glance so
+defying, Arthur began to fear that her reason was disordered. Fever was
+burning on her cheeks, and it might be the fire of delirium that
+sparkled in her eyes. He took her hand very gently, and tried to count
+the beatings of her pulse, but she snatched it from him with violence,
+and commanded him to leave her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This is my sanctuary,&#8221; she cried. &#8220;You have no right to intrude into
+it. Begone!&mdash;I will be alone.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span>&#8220;Mittie, I will not leave you here&mdash;you must return with me to your
+father&#8217;s house. Think of the obloquy you may incur by remaining. Come,
+before another enters.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If I go, <em>you</em> will be suspected of releasing the prisoner, and suffer
+the penalty due for such an act. No, no, I have braved all consequences,
+and I dare to meet them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then I leave you to inform the jailer of the flight of the prisoner. It
+is my duty.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You will not do so mean and unmanly a deed!&#8221; springing between him and
+the door, and pressing her back against it. &#8220;You will not basely inform
+of him whom a young girl has had the courage to release. <em>You</em>&mdash;a man,
+will not do it. <em>Will you?</em>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An act of justice is never base or cowardly. Clinton is a convicted
+thief, and deserves the doom impending over such transgressors. He is an
+unprincipled and profligate young man, and unworthy the love of a
+pure-hearted woman. He has tempted your brother from the paths of
+virtue, repaid your confidence with the coldest treachery, violated the
+laws of God and man, and yet, unparalleled infatuation&mdash;you love him
+still, and expose yourself to slander and disgrace for his sake.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He spoke sternly, commandingly. He had tried reason and persuasion, he
+now spoke with authority, but it was equally in vain.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who told you that I love him?&#8221; she repeated. &#8220;&#8217;Tis false. I hate him. I
+hate him!&#8221; she again repeated, but her lips quivered, and her voice
+choked.</p>
+
+<p>Arthur hailed this symptom of sensibility as a favorable omen. He had
+never intended to inform the jailer of Clinton&#8217;s escape. He would not be
+instrumental to such an event himself, knowing, as he did, his guilt,
+but since it had been effected by another, he could not help rejoicing
+in heart. Perhaps Clinton might profit by this bitter lesson, and
+&#8220;reformation glittering over his faults&#8221;&mdash;efface by its lustre the dark
+stain upon his name. And while he condemned the rashness and mourned for
+the misguided feelings of Mittie, he could not repress an involuntary
+thrill of admiration for her deep, self-sacrificing love. What a pity
+that a passion<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> so sublime in its strength and despair should be
+inspired by a being so unworthy.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Will you not let me pass?&#8221; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Never, for such a purpose.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I disclaim it altogether, I never intended to put in execution the
+threat I breathed. It was to induce you to leave this horrible place
+that I uttered it. I am ashamed of the subterfuge, though the motive was
+pure. Mittie, I entreat you to come with me; I entreat you with the
+sincerity of a friend, the earnestness of a brother. I will never
+breathe to a human being the mystery of Clinton&#8217;s escape. I will guard
+your reputation with the most jealous vigilance. Not even my blind Alice
+shall be considered a more sacred trust than you, if you confide
+yourself to my protecting care.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Are you indeed my friend?&#8221; she asked, in a softened voice, with a
+remarkable change in the expression of her countenance. &#8220;I thought you
+hated me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hated you! What a suspicion!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You have always been cold and distant&mdash;never sought my friendship, or
+manifested for me the least regard. When I was but a child, and you
+first visited our family, I was attracted towards you, less by your
+gentle manners than your strong, controlling will. Had you shown as much
+interest in me as you did in Helen, you might have had a wondrous
+influence on my character. You might have saved me from that which is
+destroying me. But it is all past. You slighted me, and lavished all
+your care on Helen. Every one cared for Helen more than me, and my heart
+grew colder and colder to her and all who loved her. What I have since
+felt, and why I have felt it for others, God only knows. Others! Why
+should I say others? There never was but one&mdash;and that one, the false
+felon, whom I once believed an angel of light. And he, even he has
+thrown my heart back bleeding at my feet, for the love he bears to
+Helen.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Which Helen values not,&#8221; said the young doctor, half in assertion and
+half in interrogation.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, no,&#8221; she replied, &#8220;a counter influence has saved her from the
+misery and shame.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mittie paused, clasped her hands together, and pressed them tightly on
+her bosom.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span>&#8220;Oh!&#8221; she exclaimed, &#8220;it is no metaphor, when they talk of arrows
+piercing the breast. I feel them here.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Her countenance expressed physical suffering as well as mental agony.
+She shivered with cold one moment, the next glowed with feverish heat.</p>
+
+<p>Arthur took off his cloak, and folded it round her, and she offered no
+resistance. She was sinking into that passive state, which often
+succeeds too high-wrought emotion.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are very kind,&#8221; said she, &#8220;but <em>you</em> will suffer.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No&mdash;I am accustomed to brave the elements. But if you think I suffer,
+let us hasten to a warmer region. Give me your hand.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Firmly grasping it, he extinguished the lamp, and in total darkness they
+left the cell, groped through the long, narrow passage, down the winding
+stairs, at the foot of which was the jailer&#8217;s room. Arthur was familiar
+with this gloomy dwelling, so often had he visited it on errands of
+mercy and compassion. It was not the first time he had been entrusted
+with the key of the cells, though he suspected that it would be the
+last. The keeper, only half awakened, received the key, locked his own
+door, and went back to his bed, muttering that &#8220;there were not many men
+to be trusted, but the young doctor was one.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>When Arthur and Mittie emerged from the dark prison-house into the
+clear, still moonlight, (for the moon had risen, and over the night had
+thrown a veil of silvery gauze,) Arthur&#8217;s excited spirit subsided into
+peace, beneath its pale, celestial glory. Mittie thought of the
+fugitive, and shrunk from the beams that might betray his flight. The
+sudden barking of the watch-dog made her tremble. Even their own shadows
+on the white, frozen ground, she mistook for the avengers of crime, in
+the act of pursuit.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What shall we do?&#8221; said Arthur, when, having arrived at Mr. Gleason&#8217;s
+door, they found it fastened. &#8220;I wish you could enter unobserved.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mittie&#8217;s solitary habits made her departure easy, and her absence
+unsuspected, but she could not steal in through the bolts and locks that
+impeded her admission.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No matter,&#8221; she cried, &#8220;leave me here&mdash;I will lie down<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> by the
+threshold, and wait the morning. All places are alike to me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Louis, whose chamber was opposite to Mittie&#8217;s, in the front part of the
+house, and who now had many a sleepless night, heard voices in the
+portico, and opening the window, demanded &#8220;who was there?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come down softly and open the door,&#8221; said Arthur, &#8220;I wish to speak to
+you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Louis hastily descended, and unlocked the door.</p>
+
+<p>His astonishment, on seeing his sister with Arthur Hazleton, at that
+hour, when he supposed her in her own room, was so great that he held
+the door in his hand, without speaking or offering to admit them.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let us in as noiselessly as possible,&#8221; said Arthur. &#8220;Take her directly
+to her chamber, kindle a fire, give her a generous glass of Port wine,
+and question her not to-night. Let no servant be roused. Wait upon her
+yourself, and be silent on the morrow. Good-night.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is too bright,&#8221; whispered she, as Louis half carried her up stairs,
+stepping over the checker-work the moon made on the carpet.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is too bright, Mittie?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nothing. Make haste&mdash;I am very cold.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Louis led Mittie to a chair, then lighting a candle, he knelt down and
+gathered together the still smoking brands. A bright fire soon blazed on
+the hearth, and illuminated the apartment.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now for the wine,&#8221; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He is gone, Louis,&#8221; said she, laying her hand on his arm. &#8220;He is fled.
+I released him. Was it not noble in me, when he loves Helen, and he a
+thief, too?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Louis thought she spoke very strangely, and he looked earnestly at her
+glittering eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am glad of it!&#8221; he exclaimed&mdash;&#8220;he is a villain, but I am glad he is
+escaped. But you, Mittie&mdash;you should not have done this. How could you
+do it? Did Arthur Hazleton help you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, no! I did it very easily&mdash;I gave him your cloak and cap. You must
+not be angry, you shall have new ones. They fitted him very nicely. He
+would run faster, if my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> heart-strings did not get tangled round his
+feet, all bleeding, too. Don&#8217;t you remember, Miss Thusa told you about
+it, long ago?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My God, Mittie! what makes you talk in that way? Don&#8217;t talk so. Don&#8217;t
+look so. For Heaven&#8217;s sake, don&#8217;t look so wild.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t help it, Louis,&#8221; said she, pressing her hands on the top of her
+head, &#8220;I feel so strange here. I do believe I&#8217;m mad.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She was indeed delirious. The fever which for many days had been burning
+in her veins, now lighted its flames in her brain, and raged for more
+than a week with increasing violence.</p>
+
+<p>She did not know, while she lay tossing in delirious agony, that the
+fugitive, Clinton, had been overtaken, and brought back in chains to a
+more hopeless, because doubly guarded captivity.</p>
+
+<p>Justice triumphed over love.</p>
+
+<p>He who sows the wind, must expect to reap the whirlwind.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;High minds of native pride and force,<br />
+Most deeply feel thy pangs, remorse.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Scott.</cite></p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Lord, at Thy feet ashamed I lie,<br />
+<span class="i1">Upward I dare not look&mdash;</span><br />
+Pardon my sins before I die,<br />
+<span class="i1">And blot them from Thy book.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Hymn.</cite></span></p>
+
+
+<p class="firstpar"><span class="smcap">When</span> Mittie awoke from the wild dream of delirium, she was weak as a
+new-born infant. For a few moments she imagined herself the inhabitant
+of another world. The deep quietude of the apartment, its soft, subdued,
+slumberous light, the still, watching figures seated by her bedside,
+formed so strong a contrast to the gloomy cell, with its chill, damp
+air, and glimmering lamp&mdash;its rough keeper and agitated inmate&mdash;that
+cell which, it appeared to her, she had just quitted. Two fair young
+forms, with arms interlaced, and heads inclined towards each other, the
+one with locks of rippling gold, the other of soft, wavy brown, seemed
+watching angels to her unclosing eyes. She felt a soft pressure on her
+faintly throbbing pulse, and knew that on the other side, opposite the
+watching angels, a manly figure was bending over her. She could not turn
+her head to gaze upon it, but there was a benignity in its presence
+which soothed and comforted her. Other forms were there also, but they
+faded away in a soft, hazy atmosphere, and her drooping eye-lids again
+closed.</p>
+
+<p>In the long, tranquil slumber that followed, she passed the crisis of
+her disease, and the strife-worn, wandering spirit returned to the
+throne it had abdicated.</p>
+
+<p>And now Mittie became conscious of the unbounded tenderness and care
+lavished upon her by every member of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> household, and of the
+unwearied attentions of Arthur Hazleton. Helen herself could not have
+been more kindly, anxiously nursed. She, who had believed herself an
+object of indifference or dislike to all, was the central point of
+solicitude now. If she slept, every one moved as if shod with velvet,
+the curtains were gently let down, all occupation suspended, lest it
+should disturb the pale slumberer;&mdash;if she waked, some kind hand was
+ever ready to smooth her pillow, wipe the dew of weakness from her brow,
+and administer the cordial to her wan lips.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why do you all nurse me so tenderly?&#8221; asked she of her step-mother, one
+night, when she was watching by her. &#8220;Me, who have never done any thing
+for others?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are sick and helpless, and dependent on our care. The hand of God
+is laid upon you, and whosoever He smites, becomes a sacred object in
+the Christian&#8217;s eyes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then it is not from love you minister to my weakness. I thought it
+could not be.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Mittie. It is from love. We always love those who depend on us for
+life. Your sufferings have been great, and great is our sympathy. Pity,
+sympathy, tenderness, all flow towards you, and no remembrance of the
+past mingles bitterness with their balm.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, mother, I do not wish to live. It were far kinder to let me die.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was the first time Mittie had ever addressed her thus. The name
+seemed to glide unconsciously from her lips, breathed by her softened
+spirit.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Gleason was moved even to tears. She felt repaid for all her
+forbearance, all her trials, by the utterance of this one little word,
+so long and so ungratefully withheld. Bending forward, with an
+involuntary movement, she kissed the faded lips, which, when rosy with
+health, had always repelled her maternal caresses. She felt the feeble
+arm of the invalid pass round her neck, and draw her still closer. She
+felt, too, tears which did not <em>all</em> flow from her own eyes moisten her
+cheek.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I do not wish to live, mother,&#8221; repeated Mittie, after this ebullition
+of sensibility had subsided. &#8220;I can never again be happy. I never can
+make others happy. I am<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> willing to die. Every time I close my eyes I
+pray that my sleep may be death, my bed my grave.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah! my child, pray not for death because you have been saved from the
+curse of a granted prayer. Pray rather that you may live to atone by a
+life of meekness and humility for past errors. You ought not to be
+willing to die with so great a purpose unaccomplished, since God does
+not now <em>will</em> you to depart. You mistake physical debility for
+resignation, weariness of life for desire for heaven. Oh, Mittie, not in
+the sackcloth and ashes of <em>selfish</em> sorrow should the spirit be clothed
+to meet its God.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mittie lay for some time without speaking, then lifting her melancholy
+black eyes, once so haughty and brilliant, she said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I will tell you why I wish to die. I am now humbled and
+subdued&mdash;conscious and ashamed of my errors, grateful for your
+unexampled goodness. If I die now, you will shed some tears over my
+grave, and perhaps say, &#8216;Poor girl! she was so young, and so unhappy&mdash;we
+remember her faults only to forgive them.&#8217; But if I live to be strong
+and healthy as I have been before, I fear my heart will harden, and my
+evil temper recover all its terrible power. It seems to me now as if I
+had been possessed by one of those fiends which we read of in the Bible,
+which tore and rent the bosom that they entered. It is not cast out&mdash;it
+only sleeps&mdash;and I fear&mdash;oh!&mdash;I dread its wakening.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Mittie, only cry, &#8216;Thou Son of David, have mercy on me&mdash;&#8217; only cry
+out, from the depths of a contrite spirit&mdash;and it will depart, though
+its name be legion.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But I fear this contrition may be transitory. I do pray, I do cry out
+for mercy now, but to-morrow my heart may harden into stone. You, who
+are so perfect and pious, think it easy to be good, and so it is, on a
+sick bed&mdash;when gentle, watching eyes and stilly steps are round you, and
+the air you breathe is embalmed with blessings. With returning health
+the bosom strife will begin. Your thoughts will no longer centre on me.
+Helen will once more absorb your affections, and then the serpent envy
+will come gliding back, so cold and venomous, to coil itself in my
+heart.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My child&mdash;there is room enough in the world, room<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> enough in our
+hearts, and room enough in Heaven, for you and Helen too.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She spoke with solemnity, and she continued to speak soothingly and
+persuasively till the eyes of the invalid were closed in slumber, and
+then her thoughts rose in silent prayer for that sin-sick and life-weary
+soul.</p>
+
+<p>Mittie never alluded to Clinton in her conversation with her mother.
+There was only one being to whom she now felt willing to breathe his
+name, and that was Arthur Hazleton. The first time she was alone with
+him, she asked the question that had long been hovering on her lips. She
+was sitting in an easy chair, supported by pillows, her head resting on
+her wasted hand. The reflection of the crimson curtains gave a glow to
+the chill whiteness of her face, and softened the gloom of her sable
+eyes. She looked earnestly at Arthur, who knew all that she wished to
+ask. The color mounted to his cheek. He could not frame a falsehood, and
+he feared to reveal the truth.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Are there any tidings of him?&#8221; said she; &#8220;is he safe&mdash;or has his flight
+been discovered? But,&#8221; continued she in a lower voice, &#8220;you need not
+speak. Your looks reveal the whole. He is again imprisoned.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Arthur bowed his head, glad to be spared the painful task of asserting
+the fact.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And there is no hope of pardon or acquittal?&#8221; she asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;None. He <em>must</em> meet his doom. And, Mittie, sad as it is&mdash;it is just.
+Your own sense of rectitude and justice will in time sanction the
+decree. You may, you must pity him&mdash;but love, unsupported by esteem,
+must expire. You are mourning now over a bright illusion&mdash;a fallen
+idol&mdash;a deserted temple; but believe me, your mourning will change to
+joy. The illusion is dispelled, that truth may shine forth in all its
+splendor; the idol thrown down that the living God may be enthroned upon
+the altar; the temple deserted that it may be filled with the glory of
+the Lord.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are right, Arthur, in one thing&mdash;would to God you were in all. It
+is not love I now feel, but despair. It is dreadful to look forward to a
+cold, unloving existence. I shudder to think how young I am, and how
+long I may have yet to live.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span>&#8220;Yours is the natural language of disappointed youth. You have passed
+through a fiery ordeal. The sore and quivering heart shrinks from the
+contact even of sympathy. You fear the application of even Gilead&#8217;s
+balm. You are weak and languid, and I will not weary you with
+discussion; but spring will soon be here; genial, rejoicing spring. You
+will revive with its flowers, and your spirit warble with its singing
+birds. Then we will walk abroad in the hush of twilight&mdash;and if you will
+promise to listen, I will preach you a daily sermon, with nature for my
+text and inspiration too.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah! such sermons should be breathed to Helen only. She can understand
+and profit by them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There is room enough in God&#8217;s temple for you and Helen too,&#8221; replied
+Arthur. Mittie remembered the words of her step-mother, so similar, and
+was struck by the coincidence. Her own views seemed very selfish and
+narrow, by contrast.</p>
+
+<p>The flowers of spring unfolded, and Mittie did indeed revive and bloom
+again, but it was as the lily, not the rose. The love tint of the latter
+had faded, never to blush again.</p>
+
+<p>There was a subdued happiness in the household, which had long been a
+stranger there.</p>
+
+<p>Louis, though his brow still wore the traces of remorse, was happy in
+the consciousness of errors forgiven, confidence restored, and good
+resolutions strengthened and confirmed. He devoted himself to his
+father&#8217;s business with an industry and zeal more worthy of praise,
+because he was obliged to struggle with his natural inclinations. He
+believed it his father&#8217;s wish to keep him with him, and he made it his
+law to obey him, thinking his future life too short for expiation. There
+was another object, for which he also thought life too short, and that
+was to secure the happiness of Alice&mdash;whom he loved with a purity and
+intensity that was deepened by her helplessness and almost infantine
+artlessness. He knew that her blindness was hopeless, but it seemed to
+him that he loved her the more for her blindness, her entire dependence
+on his care. It would be such a holy task to protect and cherish her,
+and to throw around her darkened life the illuminating influence of
+love.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span>She was still with them, and Mrs. Hazleton had been induced to leave the
+seclusion of the Parsonage, and become the guest of Mrs. Gleason. It
+must have been a strong motive that tempted her from the hallowed
+shades, which she had never quitted since her husband&#8217;s death. Reader,
+can you conjecture what that motive was?</p>
+
+<p>A very handsome new house, built in the cottage style, had been lately
+erected in the vicinity of Mr. Gleason&#8217;s, under the superintendence of
+the young doctor, and rumor said that he was shortly to be married to
+Helen Gleason. Every one thought it was time for <em>him</em> to be married, if
+he ever intended to be, but many objected to her extreme youth. That,
+however, was the only objection urged, as Helen was a universal
+favorite, and Arthur Hazleton the idol of the town.</p>
+
+<p>Arthur had never made Helen a formal declaration of love. He had never
+asked her in so many many words, &#8220;Will you be my wife?&#8221; As imperceptibly
+and gracefully as the morning twilight brightens into the fervor and
+glory of noonday, had the watchfulness and tenderness of friendship
+deepened into the warmth and devotion of perfect love. Helen could not
+look back to any particular scene, where the character of the friend was
+merged into that of the lover. She felt the blessed assurance that she
+was beloved, yet had any one asked her how and when she first received
+it, she would have found it difficult to answer. He talked to her of the
+happiness of the future, of <em>their</em> future, of the heaven of mutual
+trust and faith and love, begun on earth, in the kingdom of their
+hearts, till it seemed as if her individual existence ceased, and life
+with him became a heavenly identity. There were other life interests,
+too, twining together, as the following scene will show.</p>
+
+<p>The evening before the wedding-day of Arthur and Helen, as Mrs. Hazleton
+was walking in the garden, gathering flowers and evergreens for bridal
+garlands to decorate the room, Louis approached her, hand in hand with
+her blind child.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mrs. Hazleton,&#8221; said he with trembling eagerness, &#8220;will you give me
+your daughter, and let us hallow the morrow by a double wedding?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span>&#8220;What, Alice, my poor blind Alice!&#8221; exclaimed Mrs. Hazleton, dropping in
+astonishment the flowers she had gathered. &#8220;You cannot mean what you
+say&mdash;and her misfortune should make her sacred from levity.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I do mean it. I have long and ardently wished it. The consciousness of
+my unworthiness has till now sealed my lips, but I cannot keep silence
+longer. My affection has grown too strong for the restraints imposed
+upon it. Give me your daughter, dearer to me for her blindness, more
+precious for her helplessness, and I will guard her as the richest
+treasure ever bestowed on man.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Hazleton was greatly agitated. She had always looked on Alice as
+excluded by her misfortune from the usual destiny of her sex, as
+consecrated from her birth for a vestal&#8217;s lot. She had never thought of
+her being wooed as a wife, and she repelled the idea as something
+sacrilegious.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Impossible, Louis,&#8221; she answered. &#8220;You know not what you ask. My Alice
+is set apart, by her Maker&#8217;s will, from the sympathies of love. I have
+disciplined her for a life of loneliness. She looks forward to no other.
+Disturb not, I pray thee, the holy simplicity of her feelings, by
+inspiring hopes which never can be realized.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Speak, Alice,&#8221; cried Louis, &#8220;and tell your mother all you just now said
+to me. Let me be justified in her eyes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Alice lifted her downcast, blushing face, while the tears rolled gently
+from her beautiful, sightless eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mother, dear mother, forgive me if I have done wrong, but I cannot help
+my heart&#8217;s throbbing more quickly at the echo of his footsteps or the
+music of his voice. And when he asked me to be his wife and be ever with
+him, I could not help feeling that it would make me the happiest of
+human beings. Oh, mother, you cannot know how kind, how good, how tender
+he has been to me. The world never looks dark when he is near.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Alice bowed her head on the shoulder of Louis, while her fair ringlets
+swept in shining wreaths over her face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This is so unexpected!&#8221; cried Mrs. Hazleton. &#8220;I must speak with your
+parents.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I come with their full consent and approbation. Alice<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> will take the
+place of Helen in the household, and prevent the aching void that would
+be left.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Alas! what can Alice do?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can love him and pray for him, mother, live to bless him, and die,
+too, for his sake, if God requires such a sacrifice.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is not hers a heavenly mission?&#8221; cried Louis, taking the hand which
+rested on his arm, and laying it gently against his heart. &#8220;This little
+hand, whose touch quickens the pulsations of my being, will be a shield
+from temptation, a safeguard from sin. What can I do for her half so
+precious as her blessings and her prayers? If I am a lamp to her path,
+she will be a light to my soul. &#8216;What can Alice do?&#8217; She can do every
+thing that a guardian angel can do. Give her to me, for I need her
+watchful cares.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I see she is yours already,&#8221; cried the now weeping mother, &#8220;I cannot
+take away what God has given. May He bless you, and sanctify this
+peculiar and solemn union.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Thus there was a double wedding on the morrow.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But she had no wedding dress prepared!&#8221; says one</p>
+
+<p>A robe of pure white muslin was all the lovely blind bride wished, and
+that she had always ready. A wreath of white rose-buds encircling her
+hair, completed her bridal attire. Helen wore no richer decoration.
+Spotless white, adorned with sweet, opening flowers, what could be more
+appropriate for youth and innocence like theirs?</p>
+
+<p>Mittie wore the same fair, youthful livery, and a stranger might have
+mistaken her for one of the brides of the evening&mdash;but no love-light
+beamed in her large, dark, melancholy eyes. She would gladly have
+absented herself from a scene in which her blighted heart had no
+sympathy, but she believed it her <em>duty</em> to be present, and when she
+congratulated the wedded pairs, she tried to smile, though her smile was
+as cold as a moonbeam on snow.</p>
+
+<p>Helen&#8217;s eyes filled with tears at the sight of that faint, cold smile.
+She thought of Clinton, as he had first appeared among them, splendid in
+youthful beauty, and then of Clinton, languishing in chains, and doomed
+to long imprisonment in a lonely dungeon. She thought of her sister&#8217;s
+wasted affections, betrayed confidence, and blasted hopes,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> and
+contrasting <em>her</em> lot with her own blissful destiny, she turned aside
+her head and wept.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Weep not, Helen,&#8221; said Arthur, in a low voice, divining the cause of
+her emotion, and fixing on the retiring form of Mittie his own
+glistening eye; &#8220;she now sows in tears, but she may yet reap in joy.
+Hers is a mighty struggle, for her character is composed of strong and
+warring elements. Her mind has grasped the sublime truths of religion,
+and when once her heart embraces them, it will kindle with the fire of
+martyrdom. I have studied her deeply, intensely, and believe me, my own
+dear Helen, my too sad and tearful bride, though she is now wading
+through cold and troubled waters, her feet will rest on the green margin
+of the promised land.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And this prophecy was indeed fulfilled. Mittie never became gentle,
+amiable and loving, like Helen, for as Arthur had justly said, her
+character was composed of strong and warring elements&mdash;but after a long
+and agonizing strife, she did become a zealous and devoted Christian.
+The hard, metallic materials of her nature were at last fused by the
+flame of divine love. She had passed through a baptism of fire, and
+though it had blistered and scarred, it had purified her heart.
+Christianity, in her, never wore a serene and joyous aspect. Its diadem
+was the crown of thorns, its drink often the vinegar and gall. It was on
+the Mount of Calvary, not of Transfiguration, that she beheld her
+Saviour, and her God.</p>
+
+<p>Had she been a Catholic, she would have worn the vesture of sackcloth,
+and slept upon the bed of iron, and even used the knotted scourge in
+expiation of her sins, but as the severe simplicity of her Protestant
+faith forbade such penances, she manifested, by the most rigid
+self-denial and strictest devotion, the sincerity of her penitence and
+the fervor of her faith.</p>
+
+<p>Was Miss Thusa forgotten? Did she sleep in her lonely grave unhonored
+and unmourned?</p>
+
+<p>In a corner of Helen&#8217;s own room, conspicuous in the mids of the elegant,
+modern furniture that adorns it, there stands an ancient brass-bound
+wheel. The brass shines with the lustre of burnished gold, and the dark
+wood-work has the polish of old mahogany. Nothing in Helen&#8217;s possession
+is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> so carefully preserved, so reverently guarded as that ancestral
+machine.</p>
+
+<p>Nor is this the only memento of the aged spinster. In the grave-yard is
+a simple monument of gray marble, which gratitude and affection have
+erected to her memory. Instead of the willow, with weeping branches, the
+usual badge of grief&mdash;a wheel carved in bas relief perpetuates the
+remembrance of her life-long occupation. Below this is written the
+inscription&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She laid her hands to the spindle, and her hands held the distaff.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She opened her mouth with wisdom, and in her tongue was the law of
+kindness.&#8221;</p>
+
+
+<p class="titlepage" style="margin-top: 4em;">THE END.</p>
+
+
+
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+
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+
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+
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+
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+for the regular price sold in the large cities, <em>free of postage</em>, on
+sending for them.</p>
+
+<p><img src="images/hand-r.jpg" width="30" height="14" alt="right-pointing hand" title="" /> All orders thankfully received and filled with
+despatch, and sent by return of mail, or express, or stage, or in any
+other way the person ordering may direct. Booksellers, News Agents,
+Pedlars, and all others supplied with any works published in the world,
+at the lowest rates.</p>
+
+<p><img src="images/hand-r.jpg" width="30" height="14" alt="right-pointing hand" title="" /> Any Book published, or advertised by any one, can
+be had here.</p>
+
+<p><img src="images/hand-r.jpg" width="30" height="14" alt="right-pointing hand" title="" /> Agents, Pedlars, Canvassers, Booksellers, News
+Agents, &amp;c., throughout the country, who wish to make money on a small
+capital, would do well to address the undersigned, who will furnish a
+complete outfit for a comparatively small amount. Send by all means, for
+whatever books you may wish, to the Publishing and Bookselling
+Establishment of</p>
+
+<p class="titlepage">T. B. PETERSON, No. 102 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+
+<p class="titlepage" style="font-size: 200%; font-weight: bold;">T. B. PETERSON,</p>
+
+<p class="titlepage" style="font-size: 150%; margin-top: 0em;">102 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia,</p>
+
+<p class="titlepage">HAS JUST PUBLISHED AND FOR SALE</p>
+
+<p class="titlepage">STEREOTYPE EDITIONS OF THE FOLLOWING WORKS,</p>
+
+<p class="titlepage">Which will be found to be the Best and Latest Publications, by the Most
+Popular and Celebrated Writers in the World.</p>
+
+<p class="titlepage">Every work published for Sale here, either at Wholesale or Retail.</p>
+
+<p class="titlepage">All Books in this Catalogue will be sent to any one to any place, per
+mail, <em>free of postage</em>, on receipt of the price.</p>
+
+<hr class="adstight" />
+
+<p class="adtitles">MRS. SOUTHWORTH&#8217;S Celebrated WORKS.</p>
+
+<p class="titlepage">With a beautiful Illustration in each volume.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">RETRIBUTION. A TALE OF PASSION. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth.
+Complete in two volumes, paper cover. Price One Dollar; or bound in
+one volume, cloth, for $1.25.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">INDIA. THE PEARL OF PEARL RIVER. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth.
+Complete in two large volumes, paper cover. Price One Dollar; or
+bound in one volume, cloth, for $1.25.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE MISSING BRIDE; OR, MIRIAM THE AVENGER. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N.
+Southworth. Complete in two volumes, paper cover. Price One Dollar;
+or bound in one volume, cloth, for $1.25.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE LOST HEIRESS. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. Being a work of
+powerful interest. Complete in two volumes, paper cover. Price One
+Dollar; or bound in one volume, cloth, for $1.25.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE WIFE&#8217;S VICTORY; AND NINE OTHER NOUVELLETTES. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N.
+Southworth. Complete in two volumes, paper cover. Price One Dollar;
+or bound in one volume, cloth, for $1.25.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE CURSE OF CLIFTON. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. Complete in two
+volumes, paper cover. Price One Dollar; or bound in one volume,
+cloth, for One Dollar and Twenty-five cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE DISCARDED DAUGHTER. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. Complete in
+two volumes, paper cover. Price One Dollar; or bound in one volume,
+cloth, for One Dollar and Twenty-five cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE DESERTED WIFE. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. Complete in two
+volumes, paper cover. Price One Dollar; or bound in one volume,
+cloth, for One Dollar and Twenty-five cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE INITIALS. A LOVE STORY OF MODERN LIFE. By a daughter of the
+celebrated Lord Erskine, formerly Lord High Chancellor of England.
+It will be read for generations to come, and rank by the side of Sir
+Walter Scott&#8217;s celebrated novels. Two volumes, paper cover. Price
+One Dollar; or bound in one volume, cloth, for $1.25.</p>
+
+<p>The whole of the above are also published in a very fine style, bound in
+full Crimson, gilt edges, gilt sides, full gilt backs, etc., and make
+very elegant and beautiful presentation books. Price Two Dollars a
+copy.</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="adtitles">CHARLES DICKENS&#8217; WORKS.</p>
+
+<p class="titlepage">The best and most popular in the world. Ten different editions. No
+Library can be complete without a Sett of these Works. Reprinted from
+the Author&#8217;s last Editions.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;PETERSON&#8217;S&#8221; is the only complete and uniform edition of Charles
+Dickens&#8217; works published in America; they are reprinted from the
+original London editions, and are now the only edition published in this
+country. No library, either public or private, can be complete without
+having in it a complete sett of the works of this, the greatest of all
+living authors. Every family should possess a sett of one of the
+editions. The cheap edition is complete in Twelve Volumes, paper cover;
+either or all of which can be had separately. Price Fifty cents each.
+The following are their names.</p>
+
+<div style="width: 45%; float: left;">
+<p class="noindent" style="margin-left: 2em;">DAVID COPPERFIELD,<br />
+NICHOLAS NICKLEBY,<br />
+PICKWICK PAPERS,<br />
+DOMBEY AND SON,<br />
+MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT,<br />
+BARNABY RUDGE,<br />
+OLD CURIOSITY SHOP,<br />
+SKETCHES BY &#8220;BOZ,&#8221;<br />
+OLIVER TWIST,<br />
+BLEAK HOUSE,<br />
+</p></div>
+<div style="width: 45%; float: right;"><p class="hanging" style="margin-right: 2em;">DICKENS&#8217; NEW STORIES. Containing The Seven Poor Travellers. Nine New
+Stories by the Christmas Fire. Hard Times. Lizzie Leigh. The Miner&#8217;s
+Daughters, etc.</p>
+<p class="hanging" style="margin-right: 2em;">CHRISTMAS STORIES. Containing&mdash;A Christmas Carol. The Chimes. Cricket
+on the Hearth. Battle of Life. Haunted Man, and Pictures from Italy.</p></div>
+
+<p style="clear: both;">A complete sett of the above edition, twelve volumes in all, will be
+sent to any one to any place, <em>free of postage</em>, for Five Dollars.</p>
+
+<hr class="ads" />
+
+<p class="adtitles">COMPLETE LIBRARY EDITION.</p>
+
+<p>In FIVE large octavo volumes, with a Portrait, on Steel, of Charles
+Dickens, containing over Four Thousand very large pages, handsomely
+printed, and bound in various styles.</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: 0em;" summary="">
+<tr>
+  <td>Volume</td>
+  <td>1</td>
+  <td>contains</td>
+  <td>Pickwick Papers and Curiosity Shop.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdc">&#8220;</td>
+  <td>2</td>
+  <td class="tdc">do.</td>
+  <td>Oliver Twist, Sketches by &#8220;Boz,&#8221; and Barnaby Rudge.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdc">&#8220;</td>
+  <td>3</td>
+  <td class="tdc">do.</td>
+  <td>Nicholas Nickleby and Martin Chuzzlewit.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdc">&#8220;</td>
+  <td>4</td>
+  <td class="tdc">do.</td>
+  <td>David Copperfield, Dombey and Son, Christmas Stories, and Pictures from Italy.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdc">&#8220;</td>
+  <td>5</td>
+  <td class="tdc">do.</td>
+  <td class="hanging">Bleak House, and Dickens&#8217; New Stories. Containing&mdash;The
+Seven Poor Travellers. Nine New Stories by the
+Christmas Fire. Hard Times. Lizzie Leigh. The Miner&#8217;s
+Daughters, and Fortune Wildrod, etc.</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-top: 1em; margin-left: 0em;" summary="">
+<tr>
+  <td>Price of</td>
+  <td>a complete</td>
+  <td>sett.</td>
+  <td>Bound in</td>
+  <td>Black cloth, full gilt back,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">$7&nbsp;50</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdc">&#8220;</td>
+  <td class="tdc">&#8220;</td>
+  <td class="tdc">&#8220;</td>
+  <td class="tdc">&#8220;</td>
+  <td>scarlet cloth, extra,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">8&nbsp;50</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdc">&#8220;</td>
+  <td class="tdc">&#8220;</td>
+  <td class="tdc">&#8220;</td>
+  <td class="tdc">&#8220;</td>
+  <td>library sheep,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">9&nbsp;00</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdc">&#8220;</td>
+  <td class="tdc">&#8220;</td>
+  <td class="tdc">&#8220;</td>
+  <td class="tdc">&#8220;</td>
+  <td>half turkey morocco,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">11&nbsp;00</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdc">&#8220;</td>
+  <td class="tdc">&#8220;</td>
+  <td class="tdc">&#8220;</td>
+  <td class="tdc">&#8220;</td>
+  <td>half calf, antique,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">15&nbsp;00</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><img src="images/hand-r.jpg" width="30" height="14" alt="right-pointing hand" title="" /> <em>Illustrated Edition is described on next page.</em> <img src="images/hand-l.jpg" width="30" height="15" alt="left-pointing hand" title="" /></p>
+
+<p class="adtitles">ILLUSTRATED EDITION OF DICKENS&#8217; WORKS.</p>
+
+<p>This edition is printed on very thick and fine white paper, and is
+profusely illustrated, with all the original illustrations by
+Cruikshank, Alfred Crowquill, Phiz, etc., from the original London
+edition, on copper, steel, and wood. Each volume contains a novel
+complete, and may be had in complete setts, beautifully bound in cloth,
+for Eighteen Dollars for the sett in twelve volumes, or any volume will
+be sold separately, as follows:</p>
+
+<div style="width: 45%; float: left; position: relative;">
+<p class="noindent">BLEAK HOUSE, <span class="prices"><em>Price</em>, $1&nbsp;50</span><br />
+PICKWICK PAPERS, <span class="prices">1&nbsp;50</span><br />
+OLD CURIOSITY SHOP, <span class="prices">1&nbsp;50</span><br />
+OLIVER TWIST, <span class="prices">1&nbsp;50</span><br />
+SKETCHES BY &#8220;BOZ,&#8221; <span class="prices">1&nbsp;50</span><br />
+BARNABY RUDGE, <span class="prices">1&nbsp;50</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div style="width: 45%; float: right; position: relative;">
+<p class="noindent">NICHOLAS NICKLEBY, <span class="prices">1&nbsp;50</span><br />
+MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT, <span class="prices">1&nbsp;50</span><br />
+DAVID COPPERFIELD, <span class="prices">1&nbsp;50</span><br />
+DOMBEY AND SON, <span class="prices">1&nbsp;50</span><br />
+CHRISTMAS STORIES, <span class="prices">1&nbsp;50</span><br />
+DICKENS&#8217; NEW STORIES, <span class="prices">1&nbsp;50</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div style="clear: both; position: relative;">
+<p class="noindent">Price of a complete sett of the Illustrated Edition, in twelve
+vols., in black cloth, gilt back, <span class="prices">$18,00</span><br />
+Price of a complete sett of the Illustrated Edition, in twelve
+vols., in full law library sheep, <span class="prices">$24,00</span><br />
+Price of a complete sett of the Illustrated edition, in twelve
+vols., in half turkey Morocco, <span class="prices">$27,00</span><br />
+Price of a complete sett of the Illustrated Edition, in twelve
+vols., in half calf, antique, <span class="prices">$36,00</span></p></div>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>All subsequent works by Charles Dickens will be issued in uniform style
+with all the previous ten different editions.</em></p>
+
+
+<p class="adtitles">CAPTAIN MARRYATT&#8217;S WORKS.</p>
+
+<p>Either of which can be had separately. Price of all except the four last
+is 25 cents each. They are printed on the finest white paper, and each
+forms one large octavo volume, complete in itself.</p>
+
+<div style="width: 45%; float: left; position: relative;">
+<p class="noindent" style="margin-left: 2em;">PETER SIMPLE.<br />
+JACOB FAITHFUL.<br />
+THE PHANTOM SHIP.<br />
+MIDSHIPMAN EASY.<br />
+KING&#8217;S OWN.<br />
+NEWTON FORSTER.<br />
+JAPHET IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.<br />
+PACHA OF MANY TALES.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div style="width: 45%; float: right; position: relative;">
+<p class="noindent">NAVAL OFFICER.<br />
+PIRATE AND THREE CUTTERS.<br />
+SNARLEYYOW; or, the Dog-Fiend.<br />
+PERCIVAL KEENE. Price 50 cts.<br />
+POOR JACK. Price 50 cents.<br />
+SEA KING. 200 pages. Price 50 cents.<br />
+VALERIE. His last Novel. Price 50 cents.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<p class="adtitles" style="clear: both;">ELLEN PICKERING&#8217;S NOVELS.</p>
+
+<p>Either of which can be had separately. Price 25 cents each. They are
+printed on the finest white paper, and each forms one large octavo
+volume, complete in itself, neatly bound in a strong paper cover.</p>
+
+<div style="width: 45%; float: left; position: relative;">
+<p class="noindent" style="margin-left: 2em;">THE ORPHAN NIECE.<br />
+KATE WALSINGHAM.<br />
+THE POOR COUSIN.<br />
+ELLEN WAREHAM.<br />
+THE QUIET HUSBAND.<br />
+WHO SHALL BE HEIR<br />
+THE SECRET FOE.<br />
+AGNES SERLE.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div style="width: 45%; float: right; position: relative;">
+<p class="noindent">THE HEIRESS.<br />
+PRINCE AND PEDLER.<br />
+MERCHANT&#8217;S DAUGHTER.<br />
+THE FRIGHT.<br />
+NAN DARRELL.<br />
+THE SQUIRE.<br />
+THE EXPECTANT.<br />
+THE GRUMBLER. 50 cts.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<p class="adtitles" style="clear: both;">MRS. CAROLINE LEE HENTZ&#8217;S WORKS.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE; OR, THE JOYS AND SORROWS OF AMERICAN LIFE. With
+a Portrait of the Author. Complete in two large volumes, paper
+cover, price One Dollar, or bound in one volume, cloth gilt, for One
+Dollar and Twenty-five cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE PLANTER&#8217;S NORTHERN BRIDE. With illustrations. Complete in two large
+volumes, paper cover, 600 pages, price One Dollar, or bound in one
+volume, cloth gilt, One Dollar and Twenty-five cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">LINDA; OR, THE YOUNG PILOT OF THE BELLE CREOLE. Complete in two volumes,
+paper cover, price One Dollar, or bound in one volume, cloth gilt,
+for One Dollar and Twenty-five cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">ROBERT GRAHAM. The Sequel to, and continuation of Linda. Being the last
+book but one that Mrs. Hentz wrote prior to her death. Complete in
+two large volumes, paper cover, price One Dollar, or bound in one
+volume, cloth gilt, for One Dollar and Twenty-five cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">RENA; OR, THE SNOW BIRD. A Tale of Real Life. Complete in two volumes,
+paper cover, price One Dollar, or bound in one volume, cloth gilt,
+for One Dollar and Twenty-five cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">MARCUS WARLAND; OR, THE LONG MOSS SPRING. A Tale of the South. Complete
+in two volumes, paper cover, price One Dollar, or bound in one
+volume, cloth gilt, One Dollar and Twenty-five cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">LOVE AFTER MARRIAGE; and other Stories. Complete in two volumes, paper
+cover, price One Dollar, or bound in one volume, cloth gilt, for One
+Dollar and Twenty-five cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">EOLINE; OR, MAGNOLIA VALE. Complete in two volumes, paper cover, price
+One Dollar, or bound in one volume, cloth gilt, $1&nbsp;25.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE BANISHED SON; and other Stories. Complete in two volumes, paper
+cover, price One Dollar, or bound in one volume, cloth gilt, $1&nbsp;25.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">HELEN AND ARTHUR. Complete in two volumes, paper cover, price One
+Dollar, or bound in one volume, cloth gilt, $1&nbsp;25.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">The whole of the above are also published in a very fine style, bound in
+the very best and most elegant and substantial manner, in full
+Crimson, with beautifully gilt edges, full gilt sides, gilt backs,
+etc., etc., making them the best and most acceptable books for
+presentation at the price, published in the country. Price of either
+one in this style, Two Dollars.</p>
+
+
+<p class="adtitles">T. S. ARTHUR&#8217;S WORKS.</p>
+
+<p>Either of which can be had separately. Price 25 cents each. They are the
+most moral, popular and entertaining in the world. There are no better
+books to place in the bands of the young. All will profit by them.</p>
+
+<div style="width: 45%; float: left; position: relative;">
+<p class="noindent" style="margin-left: 2em;">YEAR AFTER MARRIAGE.<br />
+THE DIVORCED WIFE.<br />
+THE BANKER&#8217;S WIFE.<br />
+PRIDE AND PRUDENCE.<br />
+CECILIA HOWARD.<br />
+MARY MORETON.<br />
+LOVE IN A COTTAGE.<br />
+LOVE IN HIGH LIFE.<br />
+THE TWO MERCHANTS.<br />
+LADY AT HOME.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div style="width: 45%; float: right; position: relative;">
+<p class="noindent">TRIAL AND TRIUMPH.<br />
+THE ORPHAN CHILDREN.<br />
+THE DEBTOR&#8217;S DAUGHTER.<br />
+INSUBORDINATION.<br />
+LUCY SANDFORD.<br />
+AGNES, or the Possessed.<br />
+THE TWO BRIDES.<br />
+THE IRON RULE.<br />
+THE OLD ASTROLOGER.<br />
+THE SEAMSTRESS.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="adtitles" style="clear: both;">CHARLES LEVER&#8217;S NOVELS.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">CHARLES O&#8217;MALLEY, the Irish Dragoon. By Charles Lever. Complete in one
+large octavo volume of 324 pages. Price Fifty cents; or an edition
+on finer paper, bound in cloth, illustrated. Price One Dollar.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE KNIGHT OF GWYNNE. A tale of the time of the Union. By Charles Lever.
+Complete in one fine octavo volume. Price Fifty cents; or an edition
+on finer paper, bound in cloth, illustrated. Price One Dollar.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">JACK HINTON, the Guardsman. By Charles Lever. Complete in one large
+octavo volume of 400 pages. Price Fifty cents; or an edition on
+finer paper, bound in cloth, illustrated. Price One Dollar.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">TOM BURKE OF OURS. By Charles Lever. Complete in one large octavo volume
+of 300 pages. Price Fifty cents; or an edition on finer paper, bound
+in cloth, illustrated. Price One Dollar.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">ARTHUR O&#8217;LEARY. By Charles Lever. Complete in one large octavo volume.
+Price Fifty cents; or an edition on finer paper, bound in cloth,
+illustrated. Price One Dollar.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">KATE O&#8217;DONOGHUE. A Tale of Ireland. By Charles Lever. Complete in one
+large octavo volume. Price Fifty cents; or an edition on finer
+paper, bound in cloth, illustrated. Price One Dollar.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">HORACE TEMPLETON. By Charles Lever. This is Lever&#8217;s New Book. Complete
+in one large octavo volume. Price Fifty cents; or an edition on
+finer paper, bound in cloth, illustrated. Price One Dollar.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">HARRY LORREQUER. By Charles Lever, author of the above seven works.
+Complete in one octavo volume of 402 pages. Price Fifty cents; or an
+edition on finer paper, bound in cloth, illustrated. Price One
+Dollar.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">VALENTINE VOX.&mdash;LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF VALENTINE VOX, the Ventriloquist.
+By Henry Cockton. One of the most humorous books ever published.
+Price Fifty cents; or an edition in finer paper, bound in cloth.
+Price One Dollar.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">PERCY EFFINGHAM. By Henry Cockton, author of &#8220;Valentine Vox, the
+Ventriloquist.&#8221; One large octavo volume. Price 50 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">TEN THOUSAND A YEAR. By Samuel C. Warren. With Portraits of Snap, Quirk,
+Gammon, and Tittlebat Titmouse, Esq. Two large octavo vols., of 547
+pages. Price One Dollar; or an edition on finer paper, bound in
+cloth, $1,50.</p>
+
+
+<p class="adtitles">CHARLES J. PETERSON&#8217;S WORKS.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">KATE AYLESFORD. A story of the Refugees. One of the most popular books
+ever printed. Complete in two large volumes, paper cover. Price One
+Dollar; or bound in one volume, cloth, gilt. Price $1&nbsp;25.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">CRUISING IN THE LAST WAR. A Naval Story of the War of 1812. First and
+Second Series. Being the complete work, unabridged. By Charles J.
+Peterson. 228 octavo pages. Price 50 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">GRACE DUDLEY; OR, ARNOLD AT SARATOGA. By Charles J. Peterson.
+Illustrated. Price 25 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE VALLEY FARM; OR, the AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN ORPHAN. A companion to Jane
+Eyre. Price 25 cents.</p>
+
+
+<p class="adtitles">EUGENE SUE&#8217;S NOVELS.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE MYSTERIES OF PARIS; AND GEROLSTEIN, the Sequel to it. By Eugene Sue,
+author of the &#8220;Wandering Jew,&#8221; and the greatest work ever written.
+With illustrations. Complete in two large volumes, octavo. Price One
+Dollar.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE ILLUSTRATED WANDERING JEW. By Eugene Sue. With 87 large
+illustrations. Two large octavo volumes. Price One Dollar.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE FEMALE BLUEBEARD; or, the Woman with many Husbands. By Eugene Sue.
+Price Twenty-five cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">FIRST LOVE. A Story of the Heart. By Eugene Sue. Price Twenty-five
+cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">WOMAN&#8217;S LOVE. A Novel. By Eugene Sue. Illustrated. Price Twenty-five
+cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">MAN-OF-WAR&#8217;S-MAN. A Tale of the Sea. By Eugene Sue. Price Twenty-five
+cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">RAOUL DE SURVILLE; or, the Times of Napoleon Bonaparte in 1810. Price
+Twenty-five cents.</p>
+
+
+<p class="adtitles">SIR E. L. BULWER&#8217;S NOVELS.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">FALKLAND. A Novel. By Sir E. L. Bulwer, author of &#8220;The Roue,&#8221;
+&#8220;Oxonians,&#8221; etc. One volume, octavo. Price 25 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE ROUE; OR THE HAZARDS OF WOMEN. Price 25 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE OXONIANS. A Sequel to the Roue. Price 25 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">CALDERON, THE COURTIER. By Bulwer. Price 12&frac12; cents.</p>
+
+
+<p class="adtitles">MRS. GREY&#8217;S NOVELS.</p>
+
+<p>Either of which can be had separately. Price 25 cents each. They are
+printed on the finest white paper, and each forms one large octavo
+volume, complete in itself, neatly bound in a strong paper cover.</p>
+
+<div style="width: 45%; float: left; position: relative;">
+<p class="noindent" style="margin-left: 2em;">DUKE AND THE COUSIN.<br />
+GIPSY&#8217;S DAUGHTER.<br />
+BELLE OF THE FAMILY.<br />
+SYBIL LENNARD.<br />
+THE LITTLE WIFE.<br />
+MAN&#338;UVRING MOTHER.<br />
+LENA CAMERON; or, the Four Sisters.<br />
+THE BARONET&#8217;S DAUGHTERS.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div style="width: 45%; float: right; position: relative;">
+<p class="noindent">THE YOUNG PRIMA DONNA.<br />
+THE OLD DOWER HOUSE.<br />
+HYACINTHE.<br />
+ALICE SEYMOUR.<br />
+HARRY MONK.<br />
+MARY SEAHAM. 250 pages. Price 50 cents.<br />
+PASSION AND PRINCIPLE. 200 pages. Price 50 cents.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<p class="adtitles" style="clear: both;">GEORGE W. M. REYNOLD&#8217;S WORKS.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE NECROMANCER. A Romance of the times of Henry the Eighth. By G. W. M.
+Reynolds. One large volume. Price 75 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE PARRICIDE; OR, THE YOUTH&#8217;S CAREER IN CRIME. By G. W. M. Reynolds.
+Full of beautiful illustrations. Price 50 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">LIFE IN PARIS: OR, THE ADVENTURES OF ALFRED DE ROSANN IN THE METROPOLIS
+OF FRANCE. By G. W. M. Reynolds. Full of Engravings. Price 50
+cents.</p>
+
+
+<p class="adtitles">AINSWORTH&#8217;S WORKS.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">JACK SHEPPARD.&mdash;PICTORIAL LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF JACK SHEPPARD, the most
+noted burglar, robber, and jail breaker, that ever lived.
+Embellished with Thirty-nine, full page, spirited Illustrations,
+designed and engraved in the finest style of art, by George
+Cruikshank, Esq., of London. Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">ILLUSTRATED TOWER OF LONDON. With 100 splendid engravings. This is
+beyond all doubt one of the most interesting works ever published in
+the known world, and can be read and re-read with pleasure and
+satisfaction by everybody. We advise all persons to get it and read
+it. Two volumes, octavo. Price One Dollar.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">PICTORIAL LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF GUY FAWKES, The Chief of the Gunpowder
+Treason. The Bloody Tower, etc. Illustrated By William Harrison
+Ainsworth. 200 pages. Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE STAR CHAMBER. An Historical Romance. By W. Harrison Ainsworth. With
+17 large full page illustrations. Price 50 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE PICTORIAL OLD ST. PAUL&#8217;S. By William Harrison Ainsworth. Full of
+Illustrations. Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF QUEEN ANNE. By William Harrison Ainsworth.
+Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF THE STUARTS. By Ainsworth. Being one of the
+most interesting Historical Romances ever written. One large volume.
+Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">DICK TURPIN.&mdash;ILLUSTRATED LIFE OF DICK TURPIN, the Highwayman, Burglar,
+Murderer, etc. Price Twenty-five cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">HENRY THOMAS.&mdash;LIFE OF HARRY THOMAS, the Western Burglar and Murderer.
+Full of Engravings. Price Twenty-five cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">DESPERADOES.&mdash;ILLUSTRATED LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF THE DESPERADOES OF THE
+NEW WORLD. Full of engravings. Price Twenty-five cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">NINON DE L&#8217;ENCLOS.&mdash;LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF NINON DE L&#8217;ENCLOS, with her
+Letters on Love, Courtship and Marriage. Illustrated. Price
+Twenty-five cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE PICTORIAL NEWGATE CALENDAR; or the Chronicles of Crime. Beautifully
+illustrated with Fifteen Engravings. Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">PICTORIAL LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF DAVY CROCKETT. Written by himself.
+Beautifully illustrated. Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF ARTHUR SPRING, the murderer of Mrs. Ellen Lynch
+and Mrs. Honora Shaw, with a complete history of his life and
+misdeeds, from the time of his birth until he was hung. Illustrated
+with portraits. Price Twenty-five cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">JACK ADAMS.&mdash;PICTORIAL LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF JACK ADAMS; the celebrated
+Sailor and Mutineer. By Captain Chamier, author of &#8220;The Spitfire.&#8221;
+Full of illustrations. Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">GRACE O&#8217;MALLEY.&mdash;PICTORIAL LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF GRACE O&#8217;MALLEY. By
+William H. Maxwell, author of &#8220;Wild Sports in the West.&#8221; Price Fifty
+cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE PIRATE&#8217;S SON. A Sea Novel of great interest. Full of beautiful
+illustrations. Price Twenty-five cents.</p>
+
+
+<p class="adtitles">ALEXANDRE DUMAS&#8217; WORKS.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE IRON MASK, OR THE FEATS AND ADVENTURES OF RAOULE DE BRAGELONNE.
+Being the conclusion of &#8220;The Three Guardsmen,&#8221; &#8220;Twenty Years After,&#8221;
+and &#8220;Bragelonne.&#8221; By Alexandre Dumas. Complete in two large volumes,
+of 420 octavo pages, with beautifully Illustrated Covers, Portraits,
+and Engravings. Price One Dollar.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">LOUISE LA VALLIERE; OR THE SECOND SERIES AND FINAL END OF THE IRON MASK.
+By Alexandre Dumas. This work is the final end of &#8220;The Three
+Guardsmen,&#8221; &#8220;Twenty Years After,&#8221; &#8220;Bragelonne,&#8221; and &#8220;The Iron Mask,&#8221;
+and is of far more interesting and absorbing interest, than any of
+its predecessors. Complete in two large octavo volumes of over 400
+pages, printed on the best of paper, beautifully illustrated. It
+also contains correct Portraits of &#8220;Louise La Valliere,&#8221; and &#8220;The
+Hero of the Iron Mask.&#8221; Price One Dollar.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE MEMOIRS OF A PHYSICIAN; OR THE SECRET HISTORY OF LOUIS THE
+FIFTEENTH. By Alexandre Dumas. It is beautifully embellished with
+thirty engravings, which illustrate the principal scenes and
+characters of the different heroines throughout the work. Complete
+in two large octavo volumes. Price One Dollar.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE QUEEN&#8217;S NECKLACE: OR THE SECRET HISTORY OF THE COURT OF LOUIS THE
+SIXTEENTH. A Sequel to the Memoirs of a Physician. By Alexandre
+Dumas. It is beautifully illustrated with portraits of the heroines
+of the work. Complete in two large octavo volumes of over 400 pages.
+Price One Dollar.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">SIX YEARS LATER; OR THE TAKING OF THE BASTILE. By Alexandre Dumas. Being
+the continuation of &#8220;The Queen&#8217;s Necklace; or the Secret History of
+the Court of Louis the Sixteenth,&#8221; and &#8220;Memoirs of a Physician.&#8221;
+Complete in one large octavo volume. Price Seventy-five cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">COUNTESS DE CHARNY; OR THE FALL OF THE FRENCH MONARCHY. By Alexandre
+Dumas. This work is the final conclusion of the &#8220;Memoirs of a
+Physician,&#8221; &#8220;The Queen&#8217;s Necklace,&#8221; and &#8220;Six Years Later, or Taking
+of the Bastile.&#8221; All persons who have not read Dumas in this, his
+greatest and most instructive production, should begin at once, and
+no pleasure will be found so agreeable, and nothing in novel form so
+useful and absorbing. Complete in two volumes, beautifully
+illustrated. Price One Dollar.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">DIANA OF MERIDOR; THE LADY OF MONSOREAU; or France in the Sixteenth
+Century. By Alexandre Dumas. An Historical Romance. Complete in two
+large octavo volumes of 538 pages, with numerous illustrative
+engravings. Price One Dollar.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">ISABEL OF BAVARIA; or the Chronicles of France for the reign of Charles
+the Sixth. Complete in one fine octavo volume of 211 pages, printed
+on the finest white paper. Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">EDMOND DANTES. Being the sequel to Dumas&#8217; celebrated novel of the Count
+of Monte Cristo. With elegant illustrations. Complete in one large
+octavo volume of over 200 pages. Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE CORSICAN BROTHERS. This work has already been dramatized, and is now
+played in all the theatres of Europe and in this country, and it is
+exciting an extraordinary interest. Price Twenty-five cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">SKETCHES IN FRANCE. By Alexandre Dumas. It is as good a book as
+Thackeray&#8217;s Sketches in Ireland. Dumas never wrote a better book. It
+is the most delightful book of the season. Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">GENEVIEVE, OR THE CHEVALIER OF THE MAISON ROUGE. By Alexandre Dumas. An
+Historical Romance of the French Revolution. Complete in one large
+octavo volume of over 200 pages, with numerous illustrative
+engravings. Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+
+<p class="adtitles">GEORGE LIPPARD&#8217;S WORKS.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">WASHINGTON AND HIS GENERALS; or, Legends of the American Revolution.
+Complete in two large octavo volumes of 538 pages, printed on the
+finest white paper. Price One Dollar.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE QUAKER CITY; or, the Monks of Monk Hall. A Romance of Philadelphia
+Life, Mystery and Crime. Illustrated with numerous Engravings.
+Complete in two large octavo volumes of 500 pages. Price One Dollar.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE LADYE OF ALBARONE; or, the Poison Goblet. A Romance of the Dark
+Ages. Lippard&#8217;s Last Work, and never before published. Complete in
+one large octavo volume. Price Seventy-five cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">PAUL ARDENHEIM; the Monk of Wissahickon. A Romance of the Revolution.
+Illustrated with numerous engravings. Complete in two large octavo
+volumes, of nearly 600 pages. Price One Dollar.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">BLANCHE OF BRANDYWINE; or, September the Eleventh, 1777. A Romance of
+the Poetry, Legends, and History of the Battle of Brandywine. It
+makes a large octavo volume of 350 pages, printed on the finest
+white paper. Price Seventy-five cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">LEGENDS OF MEXICO; or, Battles of General Zachary Taylor, late President
+of the United States. Complete in one octavo volume of 128 pages.
+Price Twenty-five cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE NAZARENE; or, the Last of the Washingtons. A Revelation of
+Philadelphia, New York, and Washington, in the year 1844. Complete
+in one volume. Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+
+<p class="adtitles">B. D&#8217;ISRAELI&#8217;S NOVELS.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">VIVIAN GREY. By B. D&#8217;Israeli, M. P. Complete in one large octavo volume
+of 225 pages. Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE YOUNG DUKE; or the younger days of George the Fourth. By B.
+D&#8217;Israeli, M. P. One octavo volume. Price Thirty-eight cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">VENETIA; or, Lord Byron and his Daughter. By B. D&#8217;Israeli, M. P.
+Complete in one large octavo volume. Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">HENRIETTA TEMPLE. A Love Story. By B. D&#8217;Israeli, M. P. Complete in one
+large octavo volume. Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">CONTARINA FLEMING. An Autobiography. By B. D&#8217;Israeli, M. P. One volume,
+octavo. Price Thirty-eight cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">MIRIAM ALROY. A Romance of the Twelfth Century. By B. D&#8217;Israeli, M. P.
+One volume octavo. Price Thirty-eight cents.</p>
+
+
+<p class="adtitles">EMERSON BENNETT&#8217;S WORKS.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">CLARA MORELAND. This is a powerfully written romance. The characters are
+boldly drawn, the plot striking, the incidents replete with
+thrilling interest, and the language and descriptions natural and
+graphic, as are all of Mr. Bennett&#8217;s Works. 336 pages. Price 50
+cents in paper cover, or One Dollar in cloth, gilt.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">VIOLA; OR, ADVENTURES IN THE FAR SOUTH-WEST. Complete in one largo
+volume. Price 50 cents in paper cover, or 75 cents in cloth, gilt.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE FORGED WILL. Complete in one large volume, of over 300 pages, paper
+cover, price 50 cents; or bound in cloth, gilt, price $1&nbsp;00.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">KATE CLARENDON; OR, NECROMANCY IN THE WILDERNESS. Price 50 cents in
+paper cover, or 75 cents in cloth, gilt.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">BRIDE OF THE WILDERNESS. Complete in one large volume. Price 50 cents in
+paper cover, or 75 cents in cloth, gilt.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE PIONEER&#8217;S DAUGHTER; and THE UNKNOWN COUNTESS. By Emerson Bennett.
+Price 50 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">HEIRESS OF BELLEFONTE; and WALDE-WARREN. A Tale of Circumstantial
+Evidence. By Emerson Bennett. Price 50 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">ELLEN NORBURY; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF AN ORPHAN. Complete in one large
+volume, price 50 cents in paper cover, or in cloth gilt, $1&nbsp;00.</p>
+
+
+<p class="adtitles">MISS LESLIE&#8217;S NEW COOK BOOK.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">MISS LESLIE&#8217;S NEW RECEIPTS FOR COOKING. Comprising new and approved
+methods of preparing all kinds of soups, fish, oysters, terrapins,
+turtle, vegetables, meats, poultry, game, sauces, pickles, sweet
+meats, cakes, pies, puddings, confectionery, rice, Indian meal
+preparations of all kinds, domestic liquors, perfumery, remedies,
+laundry-work, needle-work, letters, additional receipts, etc. Also,
+list of articles suited to go together for breakfasts, dinners, and
+suppers, and much useful information and many miscellaneous subjects
+connected with general house-wifery. It is an elegantly printed
+duodecimo volume of 520 pages; and in it there will be found <em>One
+Thousand and Eleven new Receipts</em>&mdash;all useful&mdash;some ornamental&mdash;and
+all invaluable to every lady, miss, or family in the world. This
+work has had a very extensive sale, and many thousand copies have
+been sold, and the demand is increasing yearly, being the most
+complete work of the kind published in the world, and also the
+latest and best, as, in addition to Cookery, its receipts for making
+cakes and confectionery are unequalled by any other work extant. New
+edition, enlarged and improved, and handsomely bound. Price One
+Dollar a copy only. This is the only new Cook Book by Miss Leslie.</p>
+
+
+<p class="adtitles">GEORGE SANDS&#8217; WORKS.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">FIRST AND TRUE LOVE. A True Love Story. By George Sand, author of
+&#8220;Consuelo,&#8221; &#8220;Indiana,&#8221; etc. It is one of the most charming and
+interesting works ever published. Illustrated. Price 50 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">INDIANA. By George Sand, author of &#8220;First and True Love,&#8221; etc. A very
+bewitching and interesting work. Price 50 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE CORSAIR. A Venetian Tale. Price 25 cents.</p>
+
+
+<p class="adtitles" style="font-size: 150%">HUMOROUS AMERICAN WORKS.</p>
+
+<p class="titlepage">WITH ORIGINAL ILLUSTRATION BY DARLEY AND OTHERS,<br />
+AND BEAUTIFULLY ILLUMINATED COVERS.</p>
+
+<p>We have just published new and beautiful editions of the following
+HUMOROUS AMERICAN WORKS. They are published in the best possible style,
+full of original Illustrations, by Darley, descriptive of all the best
+scenes in each work, with Illuminated Covers, with new and beautiful
+designs on each, and are printed on the finest and best of white paper.
+There are no works to compare with them in point of wit and humor, in
+the whole world. The price of each work is Fifty cents only.</p>
+
+<p class="titlepage">THE FOLLOWING ARE THE NAMES OF THE WORKS.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">MAJOR JONES&#8217; COURTSHIP: detailed, with other Scenes, Incidents, and
+Adventures, in a Series of Letters, by himself. With Thirteen
+Illustrations from designs by Darley. Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">DRAMA IN POKERVILLE: the Bench and Bar of Jurytown, and other Stories.
+By &#8220;Everpoint,&#8221; (J. M. Field, of the St. Louis Reveille.) With
+Illustrations from designs by Darley. Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">CHARCOAL SKETCHES; or, Scenes in the Metropolis. By Joseph C. Neal,
+author of &#8220;Peter Ploddy,&#8221; &#8220;Misfortunes of Peter Faber,&#8221; etc. With
+Illustrations. Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">YANKEE AMONGST THE MERMAIDS, and other Waggeries and Vagaries. By W. E.
+Burton, Comedian. With Illustrations by Darley. Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">MISFORTUNES OF PETER FABER, and other Sketches. By the author of
+&#8220;Charcoal Sketches.&#8221; With Illustrations by Darley and others. Price
+Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">MAJOR JONES&#8217; SKETCHES OF TRAVEL, comprising the Scenes, Incidents, and
+Adventures in his Tour from Georgia to Canada. With Eight
+Illustrations from Designs by Darley. Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">STREAKS OF SQUATTER LIFE, and Far West Scenes. A Series of humorous
+Sketches, descriptive of Incidents and Character in the Wild West.
+By the author of &#8220;Major Jones&#8217; Courtship,&#8221; &#8220;Swallowing Oysters
+Alive,&#8221; etc. With Illustrations from designs by Darley. Price Fifty
+cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">QUARTER RACE IN KENTUCKY, AND OTHER STORIES. By W. T. Porter, Esq., of
+the New York Spirit of the Times. With Eight Illustrations and
+designs by Darley. Complete in one volume. Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">SIMON SUGGS.&mdash;ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS, late of the Tallapoosa
+Volunteers, together with &#8220;Taking the Census,&#8221; and other Alabama
+Sketches. By a Country Editor. With a Portrait from Life, and Nine
+other Illustrations by Darley. Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">RIVAL BELLES. By J. B. Jones, author of &#8220;Wild Western Scenes,&#8221; etc. This
+is a very humorous and entertaining work, and one that will be
+recommended by all after reading it. Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">YANKEE YARNS AND YANKEE LETTERS. By Sam Slick, alias Judge Haliburton.
+Full of the drollest humor that has ever emanated from the pen of
+any author. Every page will set you in a roar. Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF COL. VANDERBOMB, AND THE EXPLOITS OF HIS PRIVATE
+SECRETARY. By J. B. Jones, author of &#8220;The Rival Belles,&#8221; &#8220;Wild
+Western Scenes,&#8221; etc. Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">BIG BEAR OF ARKANSAS, and other Sketches, illustrative of Characters and
+Incidents in the South and South-West. Edited by Wm. T. Porter. With
+Illustrations by Darley. Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">MAJOR JONES&#8217; CHRONICLES OF PINEVILLE; embracing Sketches of Georgia
+Scenes, Incidents, and Characters. By the author of &#8220;Major Jones&#8217;
+Courtship,&#8221; etc. With Illustrations by Darley. Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF PERCIVAL MABERRY. By J. H. Ingraham. It will
+interest and please everybody. All who enjoy a good laugh should get
+it at once. Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">FRANK FORESTER&#8217;S QUORNDON HOUNDS; or, A Virginian at Melton Mowbray. By
+H. W. Herbert, Esq. With Illustrations. Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">PICKINGS FROM THE PORTFOLIO OF THE REPORTER OF THE &#8220;NEW ORLEANS
+PICAYUNE.&#8221; Comprising Sketches of the Eastern Yankee, the Western
+Hoosier, and such others as make up society in the great Metropolis
+of the South. With Illustrations by Darley. Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">FRANK FORESTER&#8217;S SHOOTING BOX. By the author of &#8220;The Quorndon Hounds,&#8221;
+&#8220;The Deer Stalkers,&#8221; etc. With Illustrations by Darley. Price Fifty
+cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">STRAY SUBJECTS ARRESTED AND BOUND OVER; being the Fugitive Offspring of
+the &#8220;Old Un&#8221; and the &#8220;Young Un,&#8221; that have been &#8220;Laying Around
+Loose,&#8221; and are now &#8220;tied up&#8221; for fast keeping. With Illustrations
+by Darley. Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">FRANK FORESTER&#8217;S DEER STALKERS; a Tale of Circumstantial evidence. By
+the author of &#8220;My Shooting Box,&#8221; &#8220;The Quorndon Hounds,&#8221; etc. With
+Illustrations. Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN FARRAGO. By Hon. H. H. Brackenridge. For Sixteen
+years one of the Judges of the Supreme Court of the State of
+Pennsylvania. With Illustrations from designs by Darley Price Fifty
+cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE CHARMS OF PARIS; or, Sketches of Travel and Adventures by Night and
+Day, of a Gentleman of Fortune and Leisure. From his private
+journal. Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">PETER PLODDY, and other oddities. By the author of &#8220;Charcoal Sketches,&#8221;
+&#8220;Peter Faber,&#8221; &amp;c. With Illustrations from original designs, by
+Darley. Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">WIDOW RUGBY&#8217;S HUSBAND, a Night at the Ugly Man&#8217;s, and other Tales of
+Alabama. By author of &#8220;Simon Suggs.&#8221; With original Illustrations.
+Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">MAJOR O&#8217;REGAN&#8217;S ADVENTURES. By Hon. H. H. Brackenridge. With
+Illustrations by Darley. Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">SOL. SMITH; THEATRICAL APPRENTICESHIP AND ANECDOTAL RECOLLECTIONS OF
+SOL. SMITH, Esq., Comedian, Lawyer, etc. Illustrated by Darley.
+Containing Early Scenes, Wanderings in the West, Cincinnati in Early
+Life, etc. Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">SOL. SMITH&#8217;S NEW BOOK; THE THEATRICAL JOURNEY-WORK AND ANECDOTAL
+RECOLLECTIONS OF SOL. SMITH, Esq., with a portrait of Sol. Smith. It
+comprises a Sketch of the second Seven years of his professional
+life, together with some Sketches of Adventure in after years. Price
+Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">POLLY PEABLOSSOM&#8217;S WEDDING, and other Tales. By the author of &#8220;Major
+Jones&#8217; Courtship,&#8221; &#8220;Streaks of Squatter Life,&#8221; etc. Price Fifty
+cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">FRANK FORESTER&#8217;S WARWICK WOODLANDS; or, Things as they were Twenty Years
+Ago. By the author of &#8220;The Quorndon Hounds,&#8221; &#8220;My Shooting Box,&#8221; &#8220;The
+Deer Stalkers,&#8221; etc. With Illustrations, illuminated. Price Fifty
+cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">LOUISIANA SWAMP DOCTOR. By Madison Tensas, M. D., Ex. V. P. M. S. U. Ky.
+Author of &#8220;Cupping on the Sternum.&#8221; With Illustrations by Darley.
+Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">NEW ORLEANS SKETCH BOOK, by &#8220;Stahl,&#8221; author of the &#8220;Portfolio of a
+Southern Medical Student.&#8221; With Illustrations from designs by
+Darley. Price Fifty cents.</p>
+
+
+<p class="adtitles" style="font-size: 150%;">FRENCH, GERMAN, SPANISH, LATIN, AND ITALIAN LANGUAGES.</p>
+
+<p>Any person unacquainted with either of the above languages, can, with
+the aid of these works, be enabled to <em>read</em>, <em>write</em> and <em>speak</em> the
+language of either, without the aid of a teacher or any oral instruction
+whatever, provided they pay strict attention to the instructions laid
+down in each book, and that nothing shall be passed over, without a
+thorough investigation of the subject it involves: by doing which they
+will be able to <em>speak</em>, <em>read</em> or <em>write</em> either language, at their
+will and pleasure. Either of these works is invaluable to any persons
+wishing to learn these languages, and are worth to any one One Hundred
+times their cost. These works have already run through several large
+editions in this country, for no person ever buys one without
+recommending it to his friends.</p>
+
+<p class="noindent">
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">FRENCH WITHOUT A MASTER. In Six Easy Lessons.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">GERMAN WITHOUT A MASTER. In Six Easy Lessons.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">SPANISH WITHOUT A MASTER. In Four Easy Lessons.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">ITALIAN WITHOUT A MASTER. In Five Easy Lessons.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">LATIN WITHOUT A MASTER. In Six Easy Lessons.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>Price of either of the above Works, separate, 25 cents each&mdash;or the
+whole five may be had for One Dollar, and will be sent <em>free of postage</em>
+to any one on their remitting that amount to the publisher, in a
+letter.</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="adtitles">WORKS BY THE BEST AUTHORS.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">FLIRTATIONS IN AMERICA; OR HIGH LIFE IN NEW YORK. A capital book. 285
+pages. Price 50 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">DON QUIXOTTE.&mdash;ILLUSTRATED LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTTE DE LA
+MANCHA, and his Squire Sancho Panza, with all the original notes.
+300 pages. Price 75 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">WILD SPORTS IN THE WEST. By W. H. Maxwell, author of &#8220;Pictorial Life and
+Adventures of Grace O&#8217;Malley.&#8221; Price 50 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE ROMISH CONFESSIONAL; or, the Auricular Confession and Spiritual
+direction of the Romish Church. Its History, Consequences, and
+policy of the Jesuits. By M. Michelet. Price 50 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">GENEVRA; or, the History of a Portrait. By Miss Fairfield, one of the
+best writers in America. 200 pages. Price 50 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">WILD OATS SOWN ABROAD; OR, ON AND OFF SOUNDINGS. It is the Private
+Journal of a Gentleman of Leisure and Education, and of a highly
+cultivated mind, in making the tour of Europe. It shows up all the
+High and Low Life to be found in all the fashionable resorts in
+Paris. Price 50 cents in paper cover, or 75 cents in cloth, gilt.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">SALATHIEL; OR, THE WANDERING JEW. By Rev. George Croly. One of the best
+and most world-wide celebrated books that has ever been printed.
+Price 50 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">LLORENTE&#8217;S HISTORY OF THE INQUISITION IN SPAIN. Only edition published
+in this country. Price 50 cents; or handsomely bound in muslin,
+gilt, price 75 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">DR. HOLLICK&#8217;S NEW BOOK. ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY, with a large dissected
+plate of the Human Figure, colored to Life. By the celebrated Dr.
+Hollick, author of &#8220;The Family Physician,&#8221; &#8220;Origin of Life,&#8221; etc.
+Price One Dollar.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">DR. HOLLICK&#8217;S FAMILY PHYSICIAN; OR, THE TRUE ART OF HEALING THE SICK. A
+book that should be in the house of every family. It is a perfect
+treasure. Price 25 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">MYSTERIES OF THREE CITIES. Boston, New York, and Philadelphia. Revealing
+the secrets of society in these various cities. All should read it.
+By A. J. H. Duganne. 200 pages. Price 50 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">RED INDIANS OF NEWFOUNDLAND. A beautifully illustrated Indian Story, by
+the author of the &#8220;Prairie Bird.&#8221; Price 50 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">HARRIS&#8217;S ADVENTURES IN AFRICA. This book is a rich treat. Two volumes.
+Price One Dollar, or handsomely bound, $1.50.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE PETREL; OR, LOVE ON THE OCEAN. A sea novel equal to the best. By
+Admiral Fisher. 200 pages. Price 50 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">ARISTOCRACY, OR LIFE AMONG THE &#8220;UPPER TEN.&#8221; A true novel of fashionable
+life. By J. A. Nunes, Esq. Price 50 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE CABIN AND PARLOR. By J. Thornton Randolph. It is beautifully
+illustrated. Price 50 cents in paper cover; or a finer edition,
+printed on thicker and better paper, and handsomely bound in muslin,
+gilt, is published for One Dollar.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">LIFE IN THE SOUTH. A companion to &#8220;Uncle Tom&#8217;s Cabin.&#8221; By C. H. Wiley.
+Beautifully illustrated from original designs by Darley. Price 50
+cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">SKETCHES IN IRELAND. By William M. Thackeray, author of &#8220;Vanity Fair,&#8221;
+&#8220;History of Pendennis,&#8221; etc. Price 50 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE ROMAN TRAITOR; OR, THE DAYS OF CATALINE AND CICERO. By Henry William
+Herbert. This is one of the most powerful Roman stories in the
+English language, and is of itself sufficient to stamp the writer as
+a powerful man. Complete in two large volumes, of over 250 pages
+each, paper cover, price One Dollar, or bound in one volume, cloth,
+for $1&nbsp;25.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE LADY&#8217;S WORK-TABLE BOOK. Full of plates, designs, diagrams, and
+illustrations to learn all kinds of needlework. A work every Lady
+should possess. Price 50 cents in paper cover; or bound in crimson
+cloth, gilt, for 75 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE COQUETTE. One of the best books ever written. One volume, octavo,
+over 200 pages. Price 50 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">WHITEFRIARS; OR, THE DAYS OF CHARLES THE SECOND. An Historical Romance.
+Splendidly illustrated with original designs, by Chapin. It is the
+best historical romance published for years. Price 50 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">WHITEHALL; OR, THE TIMES OF OLIVER CROMWELL. By the author of
+&#8220;Whitefriars.&#8221; It is a work which, for just popularity and intensity
+of interest, has not been equalled since the publication of
+&#8220;Waverly.&#8221; Beautifully illustrated. Price 50 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE SPITFIRE. A Nautical Romance. By Captain Chamier, author of &#8220;Life
+and Adventures of Jack Adams.&#8221; Illustrated. Price 50 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">UNCLE TOM&#8217;S CABIN AS IT IS. One large volume, illustrated, bound in
+cloth. Price $1&nbsp;25.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">FATHER CLEMENT. By Grace Kennady, author of &#8220;Dunallen,&#8221; &#8220;Abbey of
+Innismoyle,&#8221; etc. A beautiful book. Price 50 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE ABBEY OF INNISMOYLE. By Grace Kennady, author of &#8220;Father Clement.&#8221;
+Equal to any of her former works. Price 25 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE FORTUNE HUNTER; a novel of New York society, Upper and Lower Tendom.
+By Mrs. Anna Cora Mowatt. Price 38 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">POCKET LIBRARY OF USEFUL KNOWLEDGE. New and enlarged edition, with
+numerous engravings. Twenty thousand copies sold. We have never seen
+a volume embracing any thing like the same quantity of useful
+matter. The work is really a treasure. It should speedily find its
+way into every family. It also contains a large and entirely new Map
+of the United States, with full page portraits of the Presidents of
+the United States, from Washington until the present time, executed
+in the finest style of the art. Price 50 cents a copy only.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">HENRY CLAY&#8217;S PORTRAIT. Nagle&#8217;s correct, full length Mezzotinto Portrait,
+and only true likeness ever published of the distinguished
+Statesman. Engraved by Sartain. Size, 22 by 30 inches. Price $1&nbsp;00 a
+copy only. Originally sold at $5&nbsp;00 a copy.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE MISER&#8217;S HEIR; OR, THE YOUNG MILLIONAIRE. A story of a Guardian and
+his Ward. A prize novel. By P. H. Myers, author of the &#8220;Emigrant
+Squire.&#8221; Price 50 cents in paper cover, or 75 cents in cloth, gilt.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE TWO LOVERS. A Domestic Story. It is a highly interesting and
+companionable book, conspicuous for its purity of sentiment&mdash;its
+graphic and vigorous style&mdash;its truthful delineations of
+character&mdash;and deep and powerful interest of its plot. Price 38
+cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">ARRAH NEIL. A novel by G. P. R. James. Price 50 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">SIEGE OF LONDONDERRY. A History of the Siege of Londonderry, and Defence
+of Enniskillen, in 1688 and 1689, by the Rev. John Graham. Price 37
+cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">VICTIMS OF AMUSEMENTS. By Martha Clark, and dedicated by the author to
+the Sabbath Schools of the land. One vol., cloth, 38 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">FREAKS OF FORTUNE; or, The Life and Adventures of Ned Lorn. By the
+author of &#8220;Wild Western Scenes.&#8221; One volume, cloth. Price One
+Dollar.</p>
+
+
+<p class="adtitles">WORKS AT TWENTY-FIVE CENTS EACH.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">GENTLEMAN&#8217;S SCIENCE OF ETIQUETTE, AND GUIDE TO SOCIETY. By Count Alfred
+D&#8217;Orsay With a portrait of Count D&#8217;Orsay. Price 25 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">LADIES&#8217; SCIENCE OF ETIQUETTE. By Countess de Calabrella, with her
+full-length portrait. Price 25 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">ELLA STRATFORD; OR, THE ORPHAN CHILD. By the Countess of Blessington. A
+charming and entertaining work. Price 25 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">GHOST STORIES. Full of illustrations. Being a Wonderful Book. Price 25
+cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">ADMIRAL&#8217;S DAUGHTER. By Mrs. Marsh, author of &#8220;Ravenscliffe.&#8221; One volume,
+octavo. Price 25 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE MONK. A Romance. By Matthew G. Lewis, Esq., M. P. All should read
+it. Price 25 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">DIARY OF A PHYSICIAN. Second Series. By S. C. Warren, author of &#8220;Ten
+Thousand a Year.&#8221; Illustrated. Price 25 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">ABEDNEGO, THE MONEY LENDER. By Mrs. Gore. Price 25 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">MADISON&#8217;S EXPOSITION OF THE AWFUL CEREMONIES OF ODD FELLOWSHIP, with 20
+plates. Price 25 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">GLIDDON&#8217;S ANCIENT EGYPT, HER MONUMENTS, HIEROGLYPHICS, HISTORY, ETC.
+Full of plates. Price 25 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">BEAUTIFUL FRENCH GIRL; or the Daughter of Monsieur Fontanbleu. Price 25
+cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">MYSTERIES OF BEDLAM; OR, ANNALS OF THE LONDON MADHOUSE. Price 25 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">JOSEPHINE. A Story of the Heart. By Grace Aguilar, author of &#8220;Home
+Influence,&#8221; &#8220;Mother&#8217;s Recompense,&#8221; etc. Price 25 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">EVA ST. CLAIR; AND OTHER TALES. By G. P. R. James, Esq., author of
+&#8220;Richelieu.&#8221; Price 25 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">AGNES GREY; AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. By the author of &#8220;Jane Eyre,&#8221; &#8220;Shirley,&#8221;
+etc. Price 25 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">BELL BRANDON, AND THE WITHERED FIG TREE. By P. Hamilton Myers. A Three
+Hundred Dollar prize novel. Price 25 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">KNOWLSON&#8217;S COMPLETE CATTLE, OR COW DOCTOR. Whoever owns a cow should
+have this book. Price 25 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">KNOWLSON&#8217;S COMPLETE FARRIER, OR HORSE DOCTOR. All that own a horse
+should possess this work. Price 25 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE COMPLETE KITCHEN AND FRUIT GARDENER, FOR POPULAR AND GENERAL USE.
+Price 25 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE COMPLETE FLORIST; OR FLOWER GARDENER. The best in the world. Price
+25 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE EMIGRANT SQUIRE. By author of &#8220;Bell Brandon.&#8221; 25 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">PHILIP IN SEARCH OF A WIFE. By the author of &#8220;Kate in Search of a
+Husband.&#8221; Price 25 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">MYSTERIES OF A CONVENT. By a noted Methodist Preacher. Price 25 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE ORPHAN SISTERS. It is a tale such as Miss Austen might have been
+proud of, and Goldsmith would not have disowned. It is well told,
+and excites a strong interest. Price 25 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE DEFORMED. One of the best novels ever written, and THE CHARITY
+SISTER. By Hon. Mrs. Norton. Price 25 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">LIFE IN NEW YORK. IN DOORS AND OUT OF DOORS. By the late William Burns.
+Illustrated by Forty Engravings. Price 25 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">JENNY AMBROSE; OR, LIFE IN THE EASTERN STATES. An excellent book. Price
+25 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">MORETON HALL; OR, THE SPIRITS OF THE HAUNTED HOUSE. A Tale founded on
+Facts. Price 25 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">RODY THE ROVER; OR THE RIBBON MAN. An Irish Tale. By William Carleton.
+One volume, octavo. Price 25 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">AMERICA&#8217;S MISSION. By Rev. Charles Wadsworth. Price 25 cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">POLITICS IN RELIGION. By Rev. Charles Wadsworth. Price 12&frac12; cts.</p>
+
+
+<p class="adtitles">Professor LIEBIG&#8217;S Works on Chemistry.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">AGRICULTURAL CHEMISTRY. Chemistry in its application to Agriculture and
+Physiology. Price Twenty-five cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">ANIMAL CHEMISTRY. Chemistry in its application to Physiology and
+Pathology. Price Twenty-five cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">FAMILIAR LETTERS ON CHEMISTRY, and its relations to Commerce, Physiology
+and Agriculture.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE POTATO DISEASE. Researches into the motion of the Juices in the
+animal body.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">CHEMISTRY AND PHYSICS IN RELATION TO PHYSIOLOGY AND PATHOLOGY.</p>
+
+<p>T. B. PETERSON also publishes a complete edition of Professor Liebig&#8217;s
+works on Chemistry, comprising the whole of the above. They are bound in
+one large royal octavo volume, in Muslin gilt. Price for the complete
+works bound in one volume, One Dollar and Fifty cents. The three last
+are not published separately from the bound volume.</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="adtitles">EXCELLENT SHILLING BOOKS.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE SEVEN POOR TRAVELLERS. By Charles Dickens. Price 12&frac12; cts.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE SCHOOLBOY, AND OTHER STORIES. By Dickens. 12&frac12; cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">SISTER ROSE. By Charles Dickens. Price 12&frac12; cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">CHRISTMAS CAROL. By Charles Dickens. Price 12&frac12; cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">LIZZIE LEIGH, AND THE MINER&#8217;S DAUGHTERS. By Charles Dickens. Price
+12&frac12; cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE CHIMES. By Charles Dickens. Price 12&frac12; cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH. By Charles Dickens. Price 12&frac12; cts.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">BATTLE OF LIFE. By Charles Dickens. Price 12&frac12; cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">HAUNTED MAN; AND THE GHOST&#8217;S BARGAIN. By Charles Dickens. Price 12&frac12;
+cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE YELLOW MASK. From Dickens&#8217; Household Words. Price 12&frac12; cts.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">A WIFE&#8217;S STORY. From Dickens&#8217; Household Words. Price 12&frac12; cts.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">MOTHER AND STEPMOTHER. By Dickens. Price 12&frac12; cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">ODD FELLOWSHIP EXPOSED. With all the Signs, Grips, Pass-words, etc.
+Illustrated. Price 12&frac12; cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">MORMONISM EXPOSED. Full of Engravings, and Portraits of the Twelve
+Apostles. Price 12&frac12; cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE LIFE AND DEATH OF THE REV. JOHN N. MAFFIT; with his Portrait. Price
+12&frac12; cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">REV. ALBERT BARNES ON THE MAINE LIQUOR LAW. THE THRONE OF INIQUITY; or,
+sustaining Evil by Law. A discourse in behalf of a law prohibiting
+the traffic in intoxicating drinks Price 12&frac12; cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">WOMAN. DISCOURSE ON WOMAN. HER SPHERE, DUTIES, ETC. By Lucretia Mott.
+Price 12&frac12; cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">EUCHRE. THE GAME OF EUCHRE, AND ITS LAWS. By a member of the Euchre Club
+of Philadelphia of Thirty Years&#8217; standing. Price 12&frac12; cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">DR. BERG&#8217;S ANSWER TO ARCHBISHOP HUGHES. Price 12&frac12; cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">DR. BERG&#8217;S LECTURE ON THE JESUITS. Price 12&frac12; cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">FRESH FRUITS AND VEGETABLES all the Year round, at Summer prices, and
+how to obtain and have them, with full directions. 12&frac12; cents.</p>
+
+<hr class="ads" />
+
+<p class="titlepage"><b>T. B. PETERSON&#8217;S Wholesale &amp; Retail Cheap Book, Magazine, Newspaper,
+Publishing and Bookselling Establishment, is at No. 102 Chestnut Street,
+Philadelphia:</b></p>
+
+<p>From which place he will supply all orders for any books at all, no
+matter by whom published, in advance of all others, and at publishers&#8217;
+lowest cash prices. He respectfully invites Country Merchants,
+Booksellers, Pedlars, Canvassers, Agents, the Trade, Strangers to the
+City, and the public generally, to call and examine his extensive
+collection of all kinds of publications, where they will be sure to find
+all the <em>best, latest, and cheapest works</em> published in this country or
+elsewhere, for sale very low.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p class="adtitles" style="font-size: 200%;">THE DESERTED WIFE.</p>
+
+<p class="adtitles">BY MRS. EMMA D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH.</p>
+
+<p class="titlepage">AUTHOR OF &#8220;THE LOST HEIRESS,&#8221; &#8220;THE MISSING BRIDE,&#8221; &#8220;WIFE&#8217;S VICTORY,&#8221;
+&#8220;CURSE OF CLIFTON,&#8221; &#8220;DISCARDED DAUGHTER,&#8221; ETC., ETC.</p>
+
+<hr class="adstight" />
+
+<p class="titlepage">Complete in one vol., bound in cloth, for One Dollar and Twenty-five
+Cents; or in two vols., paper cover, for One Dollar.</p>
+
+<hr class="adstight" />
+
+<p>The announcement of a new book by Mrs. Southworth, the author of &#8220;The
+Lost Heiress,&#8221; is a matter of great interest to all that love to read
+and admire pure and chaste American works. It is a new work of unusual
+power and thrilling interest. The scene is laid in one of the southern
+States, and the story gives a picture of the manners and customs of the
+planting gentry, in an age not far removed backward from the present.
+The characters are drawn with a strong hand, and the book abounds with
+scenes of intense interest, the whole plot being wrought out with much
+power and effect; and no one, we are confident, can read it without
+acknowledging that it possesses more than ordinary merit. The author is
+a writer of remarkable genius and originality&mdash;manifesting wonderful
+power in the vivid depicting of character, and in her glowing
+descriptions of scenery. Hagar, the heroine of the &#8220;Deserted Wife,&#8221; is a
+magnificent being, while Raymond, Gusty, and Mr. Withers, are not merely
+names, but existences&mdash;they live and move before us, each acting in
+accordance with his peculiar nature. The purpose of the author,
+professedly, is to teach the lesson, &#8220;that the fundamental causes of
+unhappiness in a married life, are a defective moral and <em>physical</em>
+education, and a premature contraction of the matrimonial engagement.&#8221;
+It is a book to read and reflect on, and one that cannot fail to do an
+immense amount of good, and will rank as one of the brightest and purest
+ornaments among the literature of this country.</p>
+
+<p class="titlepage">READ THE SUBJECT MATTER OF THE DIFFERENT CHAPTERS.</p>
+
+<div style="width: 45%; margin-left: 2em; float: left;">
+<p class="noindent">Marriage and Divorce.<br />
+The Old Mansion House.<br />
+The Aged Pastor.<br />
+The Old Man&#8217;s Darling.<br />
+The Evil Eye.<br />
+The Philosopher.<br />
+The Young Lieutenant.<br />
+First Love.<br />
+Magnetism.<br />
+The Phantom&#8217;s Warning.<br />
+The Wanderer&#8217;s Death.<br />
+Raymond.<br />
+Fanaticism.<br />
+Hagar.<br />
+Rosalia.<br />
+The Attic.<br />
+Gusty.<br />
+The Moor.<br />
+The Storm.<br />
+The Lunatic&#8217;s End.<br />
+The Hunt.<br />
+La Lionne de Chase.<br />
+Hagar&#8217;s Bridal.<br />
+The Love Angel.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div style="width: 45%; float: right;">
+<p class="noindent">The Bride&#8217;s Trial.<br />
+The Forsaken House.<br />
+The New Home.<br />
+The Midshipman&#8217;s Love.<br />
+The Worship of Joy.<br />
+The Wife&#8217;s Rival.<br />
+The New Medea.<br />
+The Bleeding Heart.<br />
+The Baptism of Grief.<br />
+Fascination.<br />
+The Forsaken.<br />
+The Fiery Trial.<br />
+Return to the Desolate Home.<br />
+Hagar at Heath Hall.<br />
+The Flight of Rosalia.<br />
+The Worship of Sorrow.<br />
+God the Consoler.<br />
+Hagar&#8217;s Resurrection.<br />
+A Revelation.<br />
+Family Secrets.<br />
+Rosalia&#8217;s Wanderings.<br />
+The Queen of Song.<br />
+Rappings at Heath Hall.<br />
+Hagar&#8217;s Ovation.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="adstight" />
+
+
+<p>T. B. PETERSON also publishes a complete and uniform edition of Mrs
+Southworth&#8217;s other works, any one or all of which, of either edition,
+will be sent to any place in the United States, <em>free of postage</em>, on
+receipt of remittances. The following are their names.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE LOST HEIRESS. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. With a Portrait and
+Autograph of the author. Complete in two volumes, paper cover. Price
+One Dollar; or in one volume, cloth, for One Dollar and Twenty-five
+cents.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE MISSING BRIDE; or, MIRIAM THE AVENGER. By Mrs. Southworth. Two
+volumes, paper cover. Price One Dollar; or bound in one volume,
+cloth, for $1.25.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE WIFE&#8217;S VICTORY; AND NINE OTHER NOUVELLETTES. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N.
+Southworth. It is embellished with a view of Prospect Cottage, the
+residence of the author. Two vols., paper cover. Price One Dollar;
+or one volume, cloth, for $1.25.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE CURSE OF CLIFTON. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. Complete in two
+volumes, paper cover. Price One Dollar; or bound in one volume,
+cloth, for $1.25.</p>
+
+<p class="hanging">THE DISCARDED DAUGHTER. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. Complete in
+two volumes. Price in paper cover, One Dollar; or bound in one
+volume, cloth, for $1.25.</p>
+
+<div style="position: relative; width: 80%; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;">
+<p>Published and for Sale by <span class="prices" style="padding-right: 3em;">T. B. PETERSON,</span><br />
+<span class="prices">No. 102 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="adtitles" style="font-size: 200%;">THE LOST HEIRESS.</p>
+
+<hr class="adstight" />
+
+<p class="titlepage">BY MRS. EMMA D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH.</p>
+
+<hr class="adstight" />
+
+<p class="titlepage"><b>Read the Brief Extracts from Lengthy Opinions given by the Press.</b></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It presents some of the most noble and beautiful models of virtue, in
+private and in public life, that ever came to us through a similar medium.
+It must have a moral, religious, and elevating tendency.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Godey&#8217;s Lady&#8217;s
+Book.</cite></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Its pages can be read, and re-read with renewed pleasure. The
+characters stand out in bold relief. The incidents are well told, and
+the interest never flags for a moment. It is a book not to be
+forgotten.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Evening Bulletin.</cite></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Maud Hunter, the heroine, is a beautiful creation, whose history will
+be perused with intense interest, and moistened eyes, by every
+sympathetic reader. The moral tone is pure and healthy, breathing the
+spirit of true religion.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Boston Transcript.</cite></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Its chasteness of morals, and its exalted role of virtue pervades every
+page. We would desire it to become a parlor table-book in every
+family.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>N. Y. Sunday Times.</cite></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It will sustain the already enviable reputation of the author. The
+character of Maud is as near perfection as anything human could be. A
+deep and thrilling interest pervades the whole work.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>N. Y. Spirit of
+the Times.</cite></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We have perused it with care and an unanticipated pleasure. The author
+displays skill and power. The plot is very well laid. The moral is
+good.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Boston Congregationalist.</cite></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This work is written with much ability. We have perused the whole of
+it, and been greatly edified. It is far superior to, and more brilliant
+than <cite>The Lamplighter</cite>.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Daily Orleanian, N. O.</cite></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is a beautifully written, and absorbingly interesting work,
+which no one can commence without following it eagerly to the
+conclusion.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Reading Gazette and Democrat.</cite></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It shows great ability, a vivid imagination, and descriptive powers of
+a very high order. It will be read with avidity.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Saturday Evening
+Mail.</cite></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The characters are all drawn to the life. Those who are fond of a good
+book should read it.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Union Harrisburg, Pa.</cite></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She is a writer of genius and originality, and has no superior in
+depicting character and scenery.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Buffalo Courier.</cite></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Great power and originality&mdash;graphic, brilliant and moral. She has
+hosts of admirers.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Wheeling Intelligencer.</cite></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We always read her creations with great pleasure. It is a charming
+work,&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Boston Sunday News.</cite></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It will be read with much interest. She is a pleasant writer, and has a
+high reputation.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Boston Traveler.</cite></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It possesses great fertility of genius, and incidents of deep
+pathos.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Nat. Intelligencer.</cite></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The plot is well wrought, and possesses an interest that is preserved
+to the last page of the book.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Sunday Mercury.</cite></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is her last and best work, and she has composed it with more than
+usual care.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Sunday Dispatch.</cite></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The story is intensely interesting. The authoress has an established
+reputation.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Richmond Dispatch.</cite></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She is a writer of remarkable genius and originality.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>N. Y. Sunday
+Mercury.</cite></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is a most entertaining volume. The writer is winning great
+popularity.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Balt. Sun.</cite></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The Lost Heiress is a novel of great interest. The characters are well
+depicted, and exhibited in colors as vivid as they are beautiful, and
+are invested with a charm which the reader will linger over in memory,
+long after he shall have closed the book.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Newark Daily Eagle.</cite></p>
+
+<p>Price for the complete work, in two volumes of over 500 pages, in paper
+cover, One Dollar only; or another edition, handsomely bound in one
+volume, cloth, gilt, is published for One Dollar and Twenty-Five Cents.</p>
+
+<p>Copies of the above work will be sent to any person, to any part of the
+United States, <em>free of postage</em>, on their remitting the price of the
+edition they may wish, to the publisher, in a letter, post-paid.</p>
+
+<div style="position: relative; width: 80%; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;">
+<p>Published and for Sale by <span class="prices" style="padding-right: 3em;">T. B. PETERSON,</span><br />
+<span class="prices">No. 102 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="adtitles"><span style="font-size: 200%;">THE WIFE&#8217;S VICTORY;</span><br />
+
+<span class="font-size: 100%;">AND NINE OTHER NOUVELLETTES.</span></p>
+
+<p class="titlepage" style="font-size: 150%;">BY MRS. EMMA D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH.</p>
+
+<p class="titlepage">Being the Most Splendid Pictures of American Life Ever Written.</p>
+
+<hr class="adstight" />
+
+<p class="titlepage"><b>Complete in two volumes, paper cover, Price One Dollar, or bound in one
+volume, cloth, for $1.25.</b></p>
+
+<hr class="adstight" />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">T. B. Peterson</span> has just published this new and celebrated work by Mrs.
+Southworth. The volume contains, besides &#8220;THE WIFE&#8217;S VICTORY,&#8221; <span class="smcap">NINE OF
+THE MOST CELEBRATED NOUVELLETTES</span> ever written by this favorite and
+world-renowned American author, and it will prove to be one of the most
+popular works ever issued. The names of the Nouvellettes contained in
+&#8220;The Wife&#8217;s Victory,&#8221; are as follows:</p>
+
+<div style="width: 45%; margin-left: 2em; float: left;">
+<p class="noindent"><b>THE WIFE&#8217;S VICTORY.</b><br />
+<b>THE MARRIED SHREW; a Sequel to the Wife&#8217;s Victory.</b><br />
+<b>SYBIL BROTHERTON; or, The Temptation.</b><br />
+<b>THE IRISH REFUGEE.</b><br />
+<b>EVELINE MURRAY; or, The Fine Figure.</b></p>
+</div>
+
+<div style="width: 45%; float: right;">
+<p class="noindent"><b>WINNY.</b><br />
+<b>THE THREE SISTERS; or, New Year&#8217;s in the Little Rough Cast House.</b><br />
+<b>ANNIE GREY; or, Neighbor&#8217;s Prescriptions.</b><br />
+<b>ACROSS THE STREET: a New Year&#8217;s Story.</b><br />
+<b>THUNDERBOLT TO THE HEARTH.</b></p>
+</div>
+
+<p style="clear: both;"><span class="smcap">The Wife&#8217;s Victory</span> will be found, on perusal by all, to be equal, if not
+superior, to any of the previous works by this celebrated American
+authoress, who is now conceded by all critics to be the best female
+writer now living, and her works to be the greatest novels in the
+English language, as well as the most splendid pictures of American life
+ever written. Either one of the ten nouvellettes contained in this
+volume, is of itself fully worth the price of the whole book. The
+<cite>Philadelphia Daily Sun</cite> says, in its editorial columns, that it shows
+all the grace, vigor, and absorbing interest of her previous works, and
+places Mrs. Southworth in the front rank of living novelists; and that
+indescribable charm pervades all her works, which can only emanate from
+a female mind. Though America has produced many examples of high
+intellect in her sex, none are destined to a higher range in the annals
+of fame, or more enduring popularity. It is embellished with a
+beautifully engraved vignette title page, executed on steel, in the
+finest style of the art, as well as a view of Brotherton Hall,
+illustrative of one of the most interesting places and scenes in the
+work.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mrs. Southworth is the finest authoress in the country. Her style is
+forcible and bold. There is an exciting interest throughout all her
+compositions, which renders them the most popular novels in the English
+language.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>New York Mirror.</cite></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Her pictures of life are vivid and truthful.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Sunday Times.</cite></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She is a woman of brilliant genius.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Olive Branch.</cite></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She is the best fiction writer in the country.&#8221;&mdash;<cite>Buffalo Express.</cite></p>
+
+<p>Copies of the above work will be sent to any person at all, to any part
+of the United States, <em>free of postage</em>, on their remitting the price of
+the edition they may wish, to the publisher, in a letter, post-paid.</p>
+
+<div style="position: relative; width: 80%; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;">
+<p>Published and for Sale by <span class="prices" style="padding-right: 3em;"><b>T. B. PETERSON,</b></span><br />
+<span class="prices"><b>No. 102 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia.</b></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="adtitles" style="font-size: 125%;">GREAT INDUCEMENTS FOR 1856</p>
+
+<hr class="adstight" />
+
+<p class="titlepage" style="font-size: 125%; font-weight: bold;">NOW IS THE TIME TO MAKE UP CLUBS!</p>
+
+<hr class="adstight" />
+
+<p class="titlepage"><span style="font-size: 200%; font-weight: bold;">PETERSON&#8217;S MAGAZINE</span><br />
+<span class="font-size: 100%;">The best and cheapest in the World for Ladies.</span></p>
+
+<hr class="adstight" />
+
+<p class="titlepage">EDITED BY MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS AND CHARLES J. PETERSON.</p>
+
+<hr class="adstight" />
+
+<p>This popular Magazine, already the cheapest and best Monthly of its kind
+in the world, <em>will be greatly improved for</em> 1856. It will contain 900
+pages of double-column reading matter; from twenty to thirty Steel
+Plates; and <em>over four hundred</em> Wood Engravings: which is
+proportionately more than any periodical, of any price, ever yet gave.</p>
+
+<p class="adtitlestight"><em>ITS THRILLING ORIGINAL STORIES</em></p>
+
+<p>Are pronounced, by the press, <em>the best published anywhere</em>. The editors
+are Mrs. Ann S. Stephens, author of &#8220;The Old Homestead.&#8221; &#8220;Fashion and
+Famine,&#8221; and Charles J. Peterson, author of &#8220;Kate Aylesford.&#8221; &#8220;The
+Valley Farm,&#8221; etc., etc.; and they are assisted by all the most popular
+female writers of America. New talent is continually being added,
+<em>regardless of expense</em>, so as to keep &#8220;Peterson&#8217;s Magazine&#8221;
+unapproachable in merit. Morality and virtue are always inculcated.</p>
+
+<p class="adtitlestight">ITS COLORED FASHION PLATES IN ADVANCE.</p>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><img src="images/hand-r.jpg" width="30" height="14" alt="right-pointing hand" title="" /> <em>It is the only Magazine whose Fashion Plates can be relied on.</em> <img src="images/hand-l.jpg" width="30" height="15" alt="left-pointing hand" title="" /></p>
+
+<p>Each Number contains a Fashion Plate, engraved on Steel, colored <em>a la
+mode</em>, and of unrivalled beauty. The Paris, London, Philadelphia, and
+New York Fashions are described, at length, each month. Every number
+also contains a dozen or more New Styles, engraved on Wood. Also, a
+Pattern, from which a dress, mantilla, or child&#8217;s costume, can be cut,
+without the aid of a mantua-maker, so that each number, in this way,
+will <em>save a year&#8217;s subscription</em>.</p>
+
+<p class="adtitlestight">Its superb Mezzotints, and other Steel Engravings.</p>
+
+<p>Its Illustrations excel those of any other Magazine, each number
+containing a superb Steel Engraving, either mezzotint or line, beside
+the Fashion Plate; and, in addition, numerous other Engravings, Wood
+Cuts, Patterns, &amp;c., &amp;c. The Engravings, at the end of the year, <em>alone</em>
+are worth the subscription price.</p>
+
+<p class="adtitlestight">PATTERNS FOR CROTCHET, NEEDLEWORK, etc.,</p>
+
+<p>In the greatest profusion, are given in every number, with Instructions
+how to work them; also, Patterns in Embroidery, Inserting, Broiderie
+Anglaise, Netting, Lace-making, &amp;c., &amp;c. Also, Patterns for Sleeves,
+Collars, and Chemisettes; Patterns in Bead-work, Hair-work, Shell-work;
+Handkerchief Corners; Names for Marking and Initials. Each number
+contains a Paper Flower, with directions how to make it. A piece of new
+and fashionable Music is also published every month. On the whole, it is
+the <em>most complete Ladies Magazine in the World</em>. <span class="smcap">Try it for One Year.</span></p>
+
+<p class="adtitlestight">TERMS:&mdash;ALWAYS IN ADVANCE.</p>
+
+<div style="width: 45%; float: left; position: relative;">
+<p class="noindent" style="margin-bottom: 0em;">One copy for One Year, <span class="prices">$ 2&nbsp;00</span><br />
+Three copies for One Year, <span class="prices">5&nbsp;00</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div style="width: 45%; float: right; position: relative;">
+<p class="noindent" style="margin-bottom: 0em;">Five copies for One Year, <span class="prices">$ 7&nbsp;50</span><br />
+Eight copies for One Year, <span class="prices">10&nbsp;00</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="titlepage" style="position: relative; clear: both; width: 50%; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;">
+<p style="margin-top: 0em;">Sixteen copies for One Year, <span class="prices">$20&nbsp;00</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="adtitlestight">PREMIUMS FOR GETTING UP CLUBS.</p>
+
+<p>Three, Five, Eight, or Sixteen copies, make a Club. To every person
+getting up a Club, our &#8220;Port-Folio of Art,&#8221; containing <em>Fifty</em>
+Engravings, will be given gratis; or, if preferred, a copy of the
+Magazine for 1855. For a Club of Sixteen, an extra copy of the Magazine
+for 1856, will be sent <em>in addition</em>.</p>
+
+<div style="position: relative; width: 80%; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;">
+<p><em>Address, post-paid</em>, <span class="prices" style="padding-right: 2em;"><b>CHARLES J. PETERSON,</b></span><br />
+<span class="prices"><b>No. 102 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia.</b></span><br /></p>
+</div>
+
+<p><img src="images/hand-r.jpg" width="30" height="14" alt="right-pointing hand" title="" /> Specimens sent, gratuitously, if written for,
+post-paid.</p>
+
+<hr class="adstight" />
+
+<p><img src="images/hand-r.jpg" width="30" height="14" alt="right-pointing hand" title="" /> All Postmasters constituted Agents. But any person
+may get up a Club.</p>
+
+<p><img src="images/hand-r.jpg" width="30" height="14" alt="right-pointing hand" title="" /> Persons remitting will please get the Postmaster
+to register their letters, in which case the remittance may be at our
+risk. When the sum is large, a draft should be procured, the cost of
+which may be deducted from the amount.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="adtitles" style="font-size: 200%;">T. B. PETERSON&#8217;S</p>
+
+<p class="titlepage">WHOLESALE AND RETAIL</p>
+
+<p class="titlepage">Cheap Book, Magazine, Newspaper, Publishing and Bookselling
+Establishment, is at</p>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><b>No. 102 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia.</b></p>
+
+<hr class="ads" />
+
+<p>T. B. PETERSON has the satisfaction to announce to the public, that he
+has removed to the new and spacious BROWN STONE BUILDING, NO. 102
+CHESTNUT STREET, just completed by the city authorities on the Girard
+Estate, known as the most central and best situation in the city of
+Philadelphia. As it is the Model Book Store of the Country, we will
+describe it: It is the largest, most spacious, and best arranged Retail
+and Wholesale Cheap Book and Publishing Establishment in the United
+States. It is built, by the Girard Estate, of Connecticut sand-stone, in
+a richly ornamental style. The whole front of the lower story, except
+that taken up by the doorway, is occupied by two large plate glass
+windows, a single plate to each window, costing together over three
+thousand dollars. On entering and looking up, you find above you a
+ceiling sixteen feet high; while, on gazing before, you perceive a vista
+of One Hundred and Fifty-Seven feet. The retail counters extend back for
+eighty feet, and, being double, afford counter-room of One Hundred and
+Sixty feet in length. There is also over <em>Three Thousand feet of
+shelving in the retail part of the store alone</em>. This part is devoted to
+the retail business, and as it is the most spacious in the country,
+furnishes also the best and largest assortment of all kinds of books to
+be found in the country. It is fitted up in the most superb style; the
+shelvings are all painted in Florence white, with gilded cornices for
+the book shelves.</p>
+
+<p>Behind the retail part of the store, at about ninety foot from the
+entrance, is the counting-room, twenty feet square, railed neatly off,
+and surmounted by a most beautiful dome of stained glass. In the rear of
+this is the wholesale and packing department, extending a further
+distance of about sixty feet, with desks and packing counters for the
+establishment, etc., etc. All goods are received and shipped from the
+back of the store, having a fine avenue on the side of Girard Bank for
+the purpose, leading out to Third Street, so as not to interfere with
+and block up the front of the store on Chestnut Street. The cellar, of
+the entire depth of the store, is filled with printed copies of Mr.
+Peterson&#8217;s own publications, printed from his own stereotype plates, of
+which he generally keeps on hand an edition of a thousand each, making a
+stock, of his own publications alone, of over three hundred thousand
+volumes, constantly on hand.</p>
+
+<p>T. B. PETERSON is warranted in saying, that he is able to offer such
+inducements to the Trade, and all others, to favor him with their
+orders, as cannot be excelled by any book establishment in the country.
+In proof of this, T. B. PETERSON begs leave to refer to his great
+facilities of getting stock of all kinds, his dealing direct with all
+the Publishing Houses in the country, and also to his own long list of
+Publications, consisting of the best and most popular productions of the
+most talented authors of the United States and Great Britain, and to his
+very extensive stock, embracing every work, new or old, published in the
+United States.</p>
+
+<p>T. B. PETERSON will be most happy to supply all orders for any books at
+all, no matter by whom published, in advance of all others, and at
+publishers&#8217; lowest cash prices. He respectfully invites Country
+Merchants, Booksellers, Pedlars, Canvassers, Agents, the Trade,
+Strangers in the city, and the public generally, to call and examine his
+extensive collection of cheap and standard publications of all kinds,
+comprising a most magnificent collection of CHEAP BOOKS, MAGAZINES,
+NOVELS, STANDARD and POPULAR WORKS of all kinds, BIBLES, PRAYER BOOKS,
+ANNUALS, GIFT BOOKS, ILLUSTRATED WORKS, ALBUMS and JUVENILE WORKS of all
+kinds, GAMES of all kinds, to suit all ages, tastes, etc., which he is
+selling to his customers and the public at much lower prices than they
+can be purchased elsewhere. Being located at No. 102 CHESTNUT Street,
+the great thoroughfare of the city, and BUYING his stock outright in
+large quantities, and not selling on commission, he can and will sell
+them on such terms as will defy all competition. Call and examine our
+stock, you will find it to be the best, largest and cheapest in the
+city; and you will also be sure to find all the <em>best, latest, popular,
+and cheapest works</em> published in this country or elsewhere, for sale at
+the lowest prices.</p>
+
+<p><img src="images/hand-r.jpg" width="30" height="14" alt="right-pointing hand" title="" /> Call in person and examine our stock, or send your
+orders by <em>mail direct</em>, to the CHEAP BOOKSELLING and PUBLISHING
+ESTABLISHMENT of</p>
+
+<p class="right"><span style="padding-right: 3em;"><b>T. B. PETERSON,</b></span><br />
+<b>No. 102 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia.</b></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div style="background-color: #EEE; padding: 0.5em 1em 0.5em 1em;">
+<p class="center noindent"><a name="trans_note" id="trans_note"></a><b>Transcriber&rsquo;s&nbsp;Note</b></p>
+
+<p class="noindent">The following typographical errors have been corrected.</p>
+
+<table style="margin-left: 0%;" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="typos">
+<tr>
+  <td>Page</td>
+  <td>Error</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">13</td>
+  <td><cite>Collins</cite> changed to <cite>Collins.</cite></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">14</td>
+  <td>ornament than use changed to ornament than use.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">17</td>
+  <td>I be!&#8217;&#8221; changed to I be!&#8217;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">18</td>
+  <td>few moments&#8221; changed to few moments,&#8221;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">20</td>
+  <td>and God wont changed to and God won&#8217;t</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">29</td>
+  <td>merry-making and frolicking changed to merry-making and frolicking.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">32</td>
+  <td><cite>Milton</cite> changed to <cite>Milton.</cite></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">40</td>
+  <td>repeated Helen, changed to repeated Helen.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">50</td>
+  <td>and she wont changed to and she won&#8217;t</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">52</td>
+  <td>than a cipher changed to than a cipher.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">53</td>
+  <td>study hereafter. changed to study hereafter.&#8221;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">54</td>
+  <td>she is sleeping changed to &#8220;she is sleeping</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">55</td>
+  <td>waiting for her changed to waiting for her.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">71</td>
+  <td>whispered Helen changed to  whispered Helen.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">71</td>
+  <td>in or out changed to in or out.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">72</td>
+  <td>&#8220;&#8216;Now,&#8221; changed to &#8220;&#8216;Now,&#8217;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">73</td>
+  <td>child did&#8217;nt changed to child didn&#8217;t</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">77</td>
+  <td>mild summer evening, changed to mild summer evening.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">82</td>
+  <td>to love her changed to to love her.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">86</td>
+  <td>It&#8217;s nobody but changed to &#8220;It&#8217;s nobody but</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">90</td>
+  <td>the young doctor changed to the young doctor.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">91</td>
+  <td>blessed light? changed to blessed light?&#8221;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">113</td>
+  <td>and more pervading changed to and more pervading.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">116</td>
+  <td>dissappointment changed to disappointment</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">119</td>
+  <td>gloriou changed to glorious</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">120</td>
+  <td>ancestral figure of Misss changed to ancestral figure of Miss</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">128</td>
+  <td>deep,tranquil,refreshing changed to deep, tranquil, refreshing</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">128</td>
+  <td>joyious changed to joyous</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">133</td>
+  <td>to see me. changed to to see me.&#8221;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">139</td>
+  <td>It is all changed to &#8220;It is all</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">148</td>
+  <td>he had roused, changed to he had roused.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">149</td>
+  <td>said Mrs. leason changed to said Mrs. Gleason</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">155</td>
+  <td>going tomorrow changed to going to-morrow</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">162</td>
+  <td>whithering changed to withering</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">164</td>
+  <td>I believe I changed to &#8220;I believe I</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">166</td>
+  <td>shant changed to shan&#8217;t</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">176</td>
+  <td>corruscate changed to coruscate</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">179</td>
+  <td>&#8220;&#8216;Not poppy, changed to &#8216;Not poppy,</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">180</td>
+  <td>his own experience?&#8221; changed to his own experience?</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">184</td>
+  <td>which wont be changed to which won&#8217;t be</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">190</td>
+  <td><cite>Shakspeare</cite> changed to <cite>Shakspeare.</cite></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">205</td>
+  <td>Poor child!. changed to Poor child!</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">217</td>
+  <td>abscence changed to absence</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">221</td>
+  <td>not very call changed to not very </td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">229</td>
+  <td><cite>Hymn</cite> changed to <cite>Hymn.</cite></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">233</td>
+  <td>dissappointed changed to disappointed</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">241</td>
+  <td>OLIVER TWIST changed to OLIVER TWIST,</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">243</td>
+  <td>INDA; changed to LINDA;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">243</td>
+  <td>etter books changed to better books</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">245</td>
+  <td>with many Husbands changed to with many Husbands.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">245</td>
+  <td>PASSION AND PRINCIPLE changed to PASSION AND PRINCIPLE.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">245</td>
+  <td>HE BARONET&#8217;S changed to THE BARONET&#8217;S</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">247</td>
+  <td>OUISE LA VALLIERE changed to LOUISE LA VALLIERE</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">247</td>
+  <td>538 pages, wit changed to 538 pages, with</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">249</td>
+  <td>Love.&#8221; etc. changed to Love,&#8221; etc.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">253</td>
+  <td>equal to th changed to equal to the</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">259</td>
+  <td><cite>the</cite> Lamplighter.&#8217;&#8221; changed to <cite>The Lamplighter</cite>.&#8221;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr">262</td>
+  <td>Philadelphia, changed to Philadelphia.</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class="noindent">The following words had inconsistent spelling and hyphenation.</p>
+
+<p class="noindent">ecstacy / ecstasy<br />
+eyelids / eye-lids<br />
+fireside / fire-side<br />
+jailer / jailor<br />
+needlework / needle-work<br />
+penknife / pen-knife<br />
+waterfall / water-fall<br />
+wayside / way-side<br />
+workbox / work-box</p>
+
+<p class="noindent">Other inconsistencies found in the text:</p>
+
+<p class="noindent">Prices on the advertising pages were printed with a period or a space or
+a comma between the dollars and cents. This inconsistency has been
+maintained.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Helen and Arthur, by Caroline Lee Hentz
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+</pre>
+
+</body>
+</html>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Helen and Arthur, by Caroline Lee Hentz
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Helen and Arthur
+       or, Miss Thusa's Spinning Wheel
+
+Author: Caroline Lee Hentz
+
+Release Date: October 20, 2007 [EBook #23106]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HELEN AND ARTHUR ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Julia Miller and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note
+
+Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. A list of changes is
+found at the end of this text. A small number of words were spelled
+or hyphenated inconsistently. These inconsistencies have been maintained
+and a list is found at the end of the text.
+
+
+
+
+HELEN AND ARTHUR;
+
+OR,
+
+Miss Thusa's Spinning Wheel.
+
+BY
+
+MRS. CAROLINE LEE HENTZ.
+
+AUTHOR OF "LINDA," "COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE," "PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE,"
+"LOVE AFTER MARRIAGE," "EOLINE," "RENA," ETC.
+
+_Complete in one large volume, bound in cloth, price One Dollar and
+Twenty-five cents, or in two volumes, paper cover, for One Dollar._
+
+READ WHAT SOME OF THE LEADING EDITORS SAY OF IT:
+
+"This book, by one of the most popular authors in the country, has been
+issued in the publisher's very best style. There are but few readers of
+the current literature of the day, who are not acquainted with the name,
+and the stories of this authoress. Her style is a pleasing one, and her
+stories usually strongly marked in incident. The volume now published
+abounds with the most beautiful scenic descriptions, and displays an
+intimate acquaintance with all phases of human character; all the
+characters being exceedingly well drawn. The moral is of a most
+wholesome character, and the plot, incidents, and management, give
+evidence of great tact, skill and judgment, on the part of the writer.
+It is a work which the oldest and the youngest may alike read with
+profit."--_Dollar Newspaper._
+
+"It is a tale of Southern life, where Mrs. Hentz is peculiarly at home,
+and so far as we have had time to examine it, it gives proofs of
+possessing all the excellencies that have already made her writings so
+popular throughout the country. The sound, healthy tone of all Mrs.
+Hentz's tales makes them safe as well as delightful reading, and we can
+safely and warmly recommend it to all who delight in agreeable fictions.
+Mr. Peterson has published it in a beautifully printed volume."--_Evening
+Bulletin._
+
+"A story of domestic life, written in Mrs. Hentz's best vein. The
+details of the plot are skilfully elaborated, and many passages are
+deeply pathetic."--_Commercial Advertiser._
+
+MRS. CAROLINE LEE HENTZ'S OTHER WORKS.
+
+T. B. Peterson having purchased the stereotype plates of all the
+writings of Mrs. Hentz, he has just published a new, uniform and
+beautiful edition of all her works, printed on a much finer and better
+paper, and in far superior and better style to what they have ever
+before been issued in, (all in uniform style with Helen and Arthur,)
+copies of any one or all of which will be sent to any place in the
+United States, free of postage, on receipt of remittances. Each book
+contains a beautiful illustration of one of the best scenes. The
+following are the names of these celebrated works:
+
+LINDA. THE YOUNG PILOT OF THE BELLE CREOLE. Complete in two volumes,
+    paper cover, price One Dol., or bound in one volume, cloth gilt,
+    $1.25.
+
+"We hail with pleasure this contribution to the literature of the South.
+Works containing faithful delineations of Southern life, society, and
+scenery, whether in the garb of romance or in the soberer attire of
+simple narrative, cannot fail to have a salutary influence in correcting
+the false impressions which prevail in regard to our people and
+institutions; and our thanks are due to Mrs. Hentz for the addition she
+has made to this department of our native literature. We cannot close
+without expressing a hope that 'Linda' may be followed by many other
+works of the same class from the pen of its gifted author."--_Southern
+Literary Gazette._
+
+"Mrs. Hentz has given us here a very delightful romance, illustrative of
+life in the South-west, on a Mississippi plantation. There is a
+well-wrought love-plot; the characters are well drawn; the incidents are
+striking and novel; the denouement happy, and moral excellent. Mrs.
+Hentz may twine new laurels above her 'Mob Cap.'"--_Evening Bulletin._
+
+ROBERT GRAHAM. The Sequel to, and continuation of Linda. Complete in two
+    large volumes, paper cover, price One Dol., or bound in one volume,
+    cloth gilt, $1.25.
+
+"We cannot admire too much, nor thank Mrs. Hentz too sincerely for the
+high and ennobling morality and Christian grace, which not only pervade
+her entire writings, but which shine forth with undimmed beauty in the
+new novel, Robert Graham. It sustains the character which is very
+difficult to well delineate in a work of fiction--_a religious
+missionary_. All who read the work will bear testimony to the entire
+success of Mrs. Hentz."--_Boston Transcript._
+
+"The thousands who read 'Linda, or, the Young Pilot of the Belle
+Creole,' will make haste to procure a copy of this book, which is a
+sequel to that history. Like all of this writer's works, it is natural
+and graphic, and very entertaining."--_City Item._
+
+"A charming novel; and in point of plot, style, and all the other
+characteristics of a readable romance, it will compare favorably with
+almost any of the many publications of the season."--_Literary Gazette._
+
+RENA; or, THE SNOW BIRD. A Tale of Real Life. Complete in two volumes,
+    paper cover, price One Dol., or bound in one volume, cloth gilt,
+    $1.25.
+
+"'Rena; or, the Snow Bird' elicits a thrill of deep and exquisite
+pleasure, even exceeding that which accompanied 'Linda,' which was
+generally admitted to be the best story ever written for a newspaper.
+That was certainly high praise, but 'Rena' takes precedence even of its
+predecessor, and, in both, Mrs. Lee Hentz has achieved a triumph of no
+ordinary kind. It is not that old associations bias our judgment, for
+though from the appearance, years since, of the famous 'Mob Cap' in this
+paper, we formed an exalted opinion of the womanly and literary
+excellence of the writer, our feelings have, in the interim, had quite
+sufficient leisure to cool; yet, after the lapse of years, we have
+continued to maintain the same literary devotion to this best of our
+female writers. The two last productions of Mrs. Lee Hentz now fully
+confirm our previously formed opinion, and we unhesitatingly commend
+'Rena,' now published in book form, in beautiful style, by T. B.
+Peterson, as a story which, in its varied, deep, and thrilling interest,
+has no superior."--_American Courier._
+
+THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. With illustrations. Complete in two large
+    volumes, paper cover, 600 pages, price One Dollar, or bound in one
+    volume, cloth gilt, $1.25.
+
+"We have seldom been more charmed by the perusal of a novel; and we
+desire to commend it to our readers in the strongest words of praise
+that our vocabulary affords. The incidents are well varied; the scenes
+beautifully described; and the interest admirably kept up. But the
+_moral_ of the book is its highest merit. The 'Planter's Northern Bride'
+should be as welcome as the dove of peace to every fireside in the
+Union. It cannot be read without a moistening of the eyes, a softening
+of the heart, and a mitigation of sectional and most unchristian
+prejudices."--_N. Y. Mirror._
+
+"It is unquestionably the most powerful and important, if not the most
+charming work that has yet flowed from her elegant pen; and though
+evidently founded upon the all-absorbing subjects of slavery and
+abolitionism, the genius and skill of the fair author have developed new
+views of golden argument, and flung around the whole such a halo of
+pathos, interest, and beauty, as to render it every way worthy the
+author of 'Linda,' 'Marcus Warland,' 'Rena,' and the numerous other
+literary gems from the same author."--_American Courier._
+
+COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE; or, THE JOYS AND SORROWS OF AMERICAN LIFE. With
+    a Portrait of the Author. Complete in two large volumes, paper
+    cover, price One Dollar, or bound in one volume, cloth gilt, $1.25.
+
+"This work will be found, on perusal by all, to be one of the most
+exciting, interesting, and popular works that has ever emanated from the
+American Press. It is written in a charming style, and will elicit
+through all a thrill of deep and exquisite pleasure. It is a work which
+the oldest and the youngest may alike read with profit. It abounds with
+the most beautiful scenic descriptions; and displays an intimate
+acquaintance with all phases of human character; all the characters
+being exceedingly well drawn. It is a delightful book, full of
+incidents, oftentimes bold and startling, and describes the warm
+feelings of the Southerner in glowing colors. Indeed, all Mrs. Hentz's
+stories aptly describe Southern life, and are highly moral in their
+application. In this field Mrs. Hentz wields a keen sickle, and harvests
+a rich and abundant crop. It will be found in plot, incident, and
+management, to be a superior work. In the whole range of elegant moral
+fiction, there cannot be found any thing of more inestimable value, or
+superior to this work, and it is a gem that will well repay a careful
+perusal. The Publisher feels assured that it will give entire
+satisfaction to all readers, encourage good taste and good morals, and
+while away many leisure hours with great pleasure and profit, and be
+recommended to others by all that peruse it."
+
+MARCUS WARLAND; or, THE LONG MOSS SPRING. A Tale of the South. Complete
+    in two volumes, paper cover, price One Dol., or bound in one volume,
+    cloth gilt, $1.25.
+
+"Every succeeding chapter of this new and beautiful nouvellette of Mrs.
+Hentz increases in interest and pathos. We defy any one to read aloud
+the chapters to a listening auditory, without deep emotion, or producing
+many a pearly tribute to its truthfulness, pathos, and power."--_Am.
+Courier._
+
+"It is pleasant to meet now and then with a tale like this, which seems
+rather like a narrative of real events than a creature of the
+imagination."--_N. Y. Commercial Advertiser._
+
+AUNT PATTY'S SCRAP BAG, together with large additions to it, written by
+    Mrs. Hentz, prior to her death, and never before published in any
+    former edition of this or any other work. Complete in two volumes,
+    paper cover, price One Dol., or bound in one volume, cloth gilt,
+    $1.25.
+
+"We venture to assert that there is not one reader who has not been made
+wiser and better by its perusal--who has not been enabled to treasure up
+golden precepts of morality, virtue, and experience, as guiding
+principles of their own commerce with the world."--_American Courier._
+
+LOVE AFTER MARRIAGE; and other Stories of the Heart. Complete in two
+    volumes, paper cover, price One Dol., or bound in one volume, cloth
+    gilt, $1.25.
+
+"This is a charming and instructive story--one of those beautiful
+efforts that enchant the mind, refreshing and strengthening it."--_City
+Item._
+
+"The work before us is a charming one."--_Boston Evening Journal._
+
+THE BANISHED SON; and other Stories of the Heart. Complete in two
+    volumes, paper cover, price One Dol., or bound in one volume, cloth
+    gilt, $1.25.
+
+"The 'Banished Son' seems to us the _chef d'oeuvre_ of the collection.
+It appeals to all the nobler sentiments of humanity, is full of action
+and healthy excitement, and sets forth the best of morals."--_Charleston
+News._
+
+EOLINE; or, MAGNOLIA VALE. Complete in two volumes, paper cover, price
+    One Dol., or bound in one volume, cloth gilt, $1.25.
+
+"We do not think that amongst American authors, there is one more
+pleasing or more instructive than Mrs. Hentz. This novel is equal to any
+which she has written."--_Cincinnati Gazette._
+
+--> Copies of either edition of any of the foregoing works will be sent
+to any person, to any part of the United States, _free of postage_, on
+their remitting the price of the ones they may wish, to the publisher,
+in a letter.
+
+  Published and for Sale by       T. B. PETERSON,
+      =No. 102 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia.=
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: I REMEMBER A TALE, SHE RESUMED]
+
+
+
+
+                      HELEN AND ARTHUR;
+
+                             OR,
+
+                 Miss Thusa's Spinning Wheel.
+
+
+                 BY MRS. CAROLINE LEE HENTZ.
+  AUTHOR OF "LINDA," "RENA," "LOVE AFTER MARRIAGE," "ROBERT
+      GRAHAM," "EOLINE," "COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE," ETC.
+
+
+    "----A countenance in which did meet
+    Sweet records--promises as sweet--
+    A creature not too bright or good
+    For human nature's daily food;
+    For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
+    Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears and smiles."--_Wordsworth._
+
+    "I know not, I ask not,
+        If guilt's in thy heart--
+    I but know that I love thee,
+        Whatever thou art."--_Moore._
+
+
+                        Philadelphia:
+           T. B. PETERSON, NO. 102 CHESTNUT STREET.
+
+
+
+
+  Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1853, by
+                        DEACON & PETERSON,
+  In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States,
+  in and for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.
+
+
+                  Printed by T. K & P. G Collins.
+
+
+
+
+MISS THUSA'S SPINNING-WHEEL.
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+    "First Fear his hand its skill to try,
+      Amid the chords bewildered laid--
+    And back recoiled, he knew not why,
+      E'en at the sound himself had made."--_Collins._
+
+
+Little Helen sat in her long flannel night-dress, by the side of Miss
+Thusa, watching the rapid turning of her wheel, and the formation of the
+flaxen thread, as it glided out, a more and more attenuated filament,
+betwixt the dexterous fingers of the spinner.
+
+It was a blustering, windy night, and the window-panes rattled every now
+and then, as if the glass were about to shiver in twain, while the stars
+sparkled and winked coldly without, and the fire glowed warmly, and
+crackled within.
+
+Helen was seated on a low stool, so near the wheel, that several times
+her short, curly hair mingled with the flax of the distaff, and came
+within a hair's breadth of being twisted into thread.
+
+"Get a little farther off, child, or I'll spin you into a spider's web,
+as sure as you're alive," said Miss Thusa, dipping her fingers into the
+gourd, which hung at the side of the distaff, while at the same time she
+stooped down and moistened the fibres, by slipping them through her
+mouth, as it glided over the dwindling flax.
+
+Helen, wrapped in yellow flannel from head to feet, with her little
+white face peeping above, looked not unlike a pearl in golden setting. A
+muslin night-cap perched on the top of her head, below which her hair
+frisked about in defiance of comb or ribbon. The cheek next to the fire
+was of a burning red, the other perfectly colorless. Her eyes, which
+always looked larger and darker by night than by day, were fixed on Miss
+Thusa's face with a mixture of reverence and admiration, which its
+external lineaments did not seem to justify. The outline of that face
+was grim, and the hair, profusely sprinkled with the ashes of age, was
+combed back from the brow, in the fashion of the Shakers, adding much to
+the rigid expression of the features. A pair of dark-rimmed spectacles
+bestrided her forehead midway, appearing more for ornament than use.
+Never did Nature provide a more convenient resting-place for
+twin-glasses, than the ridge of Miss Thusa's nose, which rose with a
+sudden, majestic elevation, suggesting the idea of unexpectedness in the
+mind of the beholder. Every thing was harsh about her face, except the
+eyes, which had a soft, solemn, misty look, a look of prophecy, mingled
+with kindness and compassion, as if she pitied the evils her
+far-reaching vision beheld, but which she had not the power to avert.
+Those soft, solemn, prophetic eyes had the power of fascination on the
+imagination of the young Helen, and night after night she would creep to
+her side, after her mother had prepared her for bed, heard her little
+Protestant _pater noster_, and left her, as she supposed, just ready to
+sink into the deep slumbers of childhood. She did not know the strange
+influence which was acting so powerfully on the mind of her child, _or_
+rather she did not seem to be aware that her child was old enough to
+receive impressions, deep and lasting as life itself.
+
+Miss Thusa was a relic of antiquity, bequeathed by destiny to the
+neighborhood in which she dwelt,--a lone woman, without a single known
+relative or connection. Though the title of Aunt is generally given to
+single ladies, who have passed the meridian of their days, irrespective
+of the claims of consanguinity, no one dared to call her Aunt Thusa, so
+great was her antipathy to the name. She had an equal abhorrence to
+being addressed as _Mrs._, an honor frequently bestowed on venerable
+spinsters. She said it did not belong to her, and she disdained to shine
+in borrowed colors. So she retained her virgin distinction, which she
+declared no earthly consideration would induce her to resign.
+
+She had formerly lived with a bachelor brother, a sickly misanthropist,
+who had long shunned the world, and, as a natural consequence, was
+neglected by it. But when it was known that the invalid was growing
+weaker and weaker, and entirely dependent on the cares of his lonely
+sister, the sympathies of strangers were awakened, and forcing their way
+into the chamber of the sick man, they administered to his sufferings
+and wants, till Miss Thusa learned to estimate, at its true value, the
+kindness she at first repelled. After the death of the brother, the
+families which composed the neighborhood where they dwelt, feeling
+compassion for her loneliness and sorrow, invited her to divide her time
+among them, and make their homes her own. One of her eccentricities (and
+she had more than one,) was a passion for spinning on a little wheel.
+Its monotonous hum had long been the music of her lonely life; the
+distaff, with its swaddling bands of flax, the petted child of her
+affections, and the thread which she manufactured the means of her daily
+support. Wherever she went, her wheel preceded her, as an _avant
+courier_, after the fashion of the shields of ancient warriors.
+
+"Ah! Miss Thusa's coming--I know it by her wheel!" was the customary
+exclamation, sometimes uttered in a tone of vexation, but more
+frequently of satisfaction. She was so original and eccentric, had such
+an inexhaustible store of ghost stories and fairy tales, sang so many
+crazy old ballads, that children gathered round her, as a Sibylline
+oracle, and mothers, who were not troubled with a superfluity of
+servants, were glad to welcome one to their household who had such a
+wondrous talent for amusing them, and keeping them still. In spite of
+all her oddities, she was respected for her industry and simplicity, and
+a certain quaint, old-fashioned, superstitious piety, that made a streak
+of light through her character.
+
+Grateful for the kindness and hospitality so liberally extended towards
+her, she never left a household without a gift of the most beautiful,
+even, fine, flaxen thread for the family use. Indeed the fame of her
+spinning spread far and wide, and people from adjoining towns often sent
+orders for quantities of Miss Thusa's marvelous thread.
+
+She was now the guest of Mrs. Gleason, the mother of Helen, who always
+appropriated to her use a nice little room in a snug corner of the
+house, where she could turn her wheel from morning till night, and bend
+over her beloved distaff. Helen, who was too young to be sent to school
+by day, or to remain in the family sitting-room at night, as her mother
+followed the good, healthy rule of _early to bed_ and _early to rise_,
+seemed thrown by fate upon Miss Thusa's miraculous resources for
+entertainment and instruction. Thus her imagination became
+preternaturally developed, while the germs of reason and judgment lay
+latent and unquickened.
+
+"Please stop spinning Miss Thusa, and tell me a story," said the child,
+venturing to put her little foot on the treadle, and giving the crank a
+sudden jerk.
+
+"Yes! Don't tease--I must smooth the flax on the distaff and wet the
+thread on the spindle first. There--that will do. Come, yellow bird,
+jump into my lap, and say what you want me to tell you. Shall it he the
+gray kitten, with the big bunch of keys on its neck, that turned into a
+beautiful princess, or the great ogre, who killed all the little
+children he could find for breakfast and supper?"
+
+"No," replied Helen, shuddering with a strange mixture of horror and
+delight. "I want to hear something you never told before."
+
+"Well--I will tell you the story of the _worm-eaten traveler_. It is
+half singing, half talking, and a powerful story it is. I would act it
+out, too, if you would sit down in the corner till I've done. Let go of
+me, if you want to hear it."
+
+"Please Miss Thusa," said the excited child, drawing her stool into the
+corner, and crouching herself upon it, while Miss Thusa rose up, and
+putting back her wheel, prepared to commence her heterogeneous
+performance. She often "_acted out_" her stories and songs, to the great
+admiration of children and the amusement of older people, but it was
+very seldom this favor was granted, without earnest and reiterated
+entreaties. It was the first time she had ever spontaneously offered to
+personate the Sibyl, whose oracles she uttered, and it was a proof that
+an unusual fit of inspiration was upon her.
+
+She was very tall and spare. When in the attitude of spinning, she
+stooped over her distaff, she lost much of her original height, but the
+moment she pushed aside her wheel, her figure resumed its naturally
+erect and commanding position. She usually wore a dress of dark gray
+stuff, with immense pockets, a black silk neckerchief folded over her
+shoulders, a white tamboured muslin cap, with a black ribbon passed two
+or three times round the crown. To preserve the purity of the muslin,
+and the lustre of the ribbon, she always wore a piece of white paper,
+folded up between her head and the muslin, making the top of the cap
+appear much more opaque than the rest.
+
+The _worm-eaten traveler_! What an appalling, yet fascinating
+communication! Helen waited in breathless impatience, watching the
+movements of the Sibyl, with darkened pupils and heaving bosom.
+
+At length when a sudden gust of wind blew a naked bough, with a sound
+like the rattling of dry bones against the windows, and a falling brand
+scattered a shower of red sparks over the hearth-stone, Miss Thusa,
+waving the bony fingers of her right hand, thus began--
+
+"Once there was a woman spinning by the kitchen fire, spinning away for
+dear life, all living alone, without even a green-eyed cat to keep her
+from being lonely. The coals were all burnt to cinders, and the shadows
+were all rolled up in black bundles in the four corners of the room. The
+woman went on spinning, singing as she spun--
+
+    'Oh! if I'd good company--if I'd good company,
+    Oh! how happy should I be!'
+
+There was a rustling noise in the chimney as if a great chimney-swallow
+was tumbling down, and the woman stooped and looked up into the black
+flue."
+
+Here Miss Thusa bowed her tall form, and turned her beaked nose up
+towards the glowing chimney. Helen, palpitating with excitement followed
+her motions, expecting to see some horrible monster descend all grim
+with soot.
+
+"Down came a pair of broad, dusty, skeleton feet," continued Miss Thusa,
+recoiling a few paces from the hearth, and lowering her voice till it
+sounded husky and unnatural, "right down the chimney, right in front of
+the woman, who cried out, while she turned her wheel round and round
+with her bobbin, 'What makes your feet so big, my friend?' 'Traveling
+long journeys. Traveling long journeys,' replied the skeleton feet, and
+again the woman sang--
+
+    'Oh! if I'd good company--if I'd good company,
+    Oh! how happy should I be!'
+
+Rattle--rattle went something in the chimney, and down came a pair of
+little mouldering ankles. 'What makes your ankles so small?' asked the
+woman. 'Worm-eaten, worm-eaten,' answered the mouldering ankles, and the
+wheel went merrily round."
+
+It is unnecessary to repeat the couplet which Miss Thusa sang between
+every descending _horror_, in a voice which sounded as if it came
+through a fine-toothed comb, in little trembling wires, though it gave
+indescribable effect to her gloomy tale.
+
+"In a few moments," continued Miss Thusa, "she heard a shoving, pushing
+sound in the chimney like something groaning and laboring against the
+sides of the bricks, and presently a great, big, bloated body came down
+and set itself on legs that were no larger than a pipe stem. Then a
+little, scraggy neck, and, last of all, a monstrous skeleton head that
+grinned from ear to ear. 'You want good company, and you shall have it,'
+said the figure, and its voice did sound awfully--but the woman put up
+her wheel and asked the grim thing to take a chair and make himself at
+home.
+
+"'I can't stay to-night,' said he, 'I've got a journey to take by the
+moonlight. Come along and let us be company for each other. There is a
+snug little place where we can rest when we're tired.'"
+
+"Oh! Miss Thusa, she didn't go, did she?" interrupted Helen, whose eyes,
+which had been gradually enlarging, looked like two full midnight moons.
+
+"Hush, child, if you ask another question, I'll stop short. She didn't
+do anything else but go, and they must have been a pretty sight walking
+in the moonlight together. The lonely woman and the worm-eaten traveler.
+On they went through the woods and over the plains, and up hill and down
+hill, over bridges made of fallen trees, and streams that had no bridges
+at all; when at last they came to a kind of uneven ground, and as the
+moon went behind a cloud, they went stumbling along as if treading over
+hillocks of corn.
+
+"'Here it is,' cried the worm-eaten traveler, stopping on the brink of a
+deep, open grave. The moon looked forth from behind a cloud, and showed
+how awful deep it was. She wanted to turn back then, but the skeleton
+arms of the figure seized hold of her, and down they both went without
+ladder or rope, and no mortal ever set eyes on them more.
+
+    'Oh! if I'd good company--if I'd good company,
+    Oh! how happy should I be!'"
+
+It is impossible to describe the intensity with which Helen listened to
+this wild, dark legend, crouching closer and closer to the chimney
+corner, while the chillness of superstitious terror quenched the burning
+fire-rose on her cheek.
+
+"Was the spinning woman _you_, Miss Thusa?" whispered she, afraid of the
+sound of her own voice; "and did you see _it_ with your own eyes?"
+
+"Hush, foolish child!" said Miss Thusa, resuming her natural tone; "ask
+me no questions, or I'll tell you no tales. 'Tis time for the yellow
+bird to be in its nest. Hark! I hear your mother calling me, and 'tis
+long past your bed-time. Come."
+
+And Miss Thusa, sweeping her long right arm around the child, bore her
+shrinking and resisting towards the nursery room.
+
+"Please, Miss Thusa," she pleaded, "don't leave me alone. Don't leave me
+in the dark. I'm not one bit sleepy--I never shall go to sleep--I'm
+afraid of the worm-eaten man."
+
+"I thought the child had more sense," exclaimed the oracle. "I didn't
+think she was such a little goose as this," continued she, depositing
+her between the nice warm blankets. "Nobody ever troubles good little
+girls--the holy angels take care of them. There, good night--shut your
+eyes and go to sleep."
+
+"Please don't take the light," entreated Helen, "only just leave it till
+I get to sleep; I'll blow it out as soon as I'm asleep."
+
+"I guess you will," said Miss Thusa, "when you get a chance." Then
+catching up the lamp, she shot out of the room, repeating to herself,
+"Poor child! She does hate the dark so! That _was_ a powerful story, to
+be sure. I shouldn't wonder if she dreamed about it. I never did see a
+child that listens to anything as she does. It's a pleasure to amuse
+her. Little monkey! She really acts as if 'twas all true. I know that's
+my master piece; that is the reason I'm so choice of it. It isn't every
+one that can tell a story as I can--that's certain. It's my _gift_--I
+mustn't be proud of it. God gives some persons one talent, and some
+another. We must all give an account of them at last. I hope 'twill
+never be said I've hid mine in a napkin."
+
+Such was the tenor of Miss Thusa's thoughts as she wended her way down
+stairs. Had she imagined half the misery she was entailing on this
+singularly susceptible and imaginative child, instead of exulting in her
+_gift_, she would have mourned over its influence, in dust and ashes.
+The fears which Helen expressed, and which she believed would prove as
+evanescent as they were unreal, were a grateful incense to her genius,
+which she delighted with unconscious cruelty in awakening. She had an
+insane passion for relating these dreadful legends, whose indulgence
+seemed necessary to her existence, and the happiness of the narrator was
+commensurate with the credulity of the auditor. Without knowing it, she
+was a vampire, feeding on the life-blood of a young and innocent heart,
+and drying up the fountain of its joys.
+
+Helen listened till the last sound of Miss Thusa's footsteps died away
+on the ear, then plunging deeper into the bed, drew the blankets over
+head and ears, and lay immovable as a snow-drift, with the chill dew of
+terror oozing from every pore.
+
+"I'm not a good girl," said the child to herself, "and God wont send the
+angels down to take care of me to-night. I played going to meeting with
+my dolls last Sunday, and Miss Thusa says that was breaking the
+commandments. I'll say my prayers over again, and ask God to forgive
+me."
+
+Little Helen clasped her trembling hands under the bed-cover, and
+repeated the Lord's Prayer as devoutly and reverentially as mortal lips
+could utter it, but this act of devotion did not soothe her into
+slumber, or banish the phantom that flitted round her couch. Finding it
+impossible to breathe under the bed-cover any longer, and fearing to die
+of suffocation, she slowly emerged from her burying-clothes till her
+mouth came in contact with the cool, fresh air. She kept her eyes
+tightly closed, that she might not see the _darkness_. She remembered
+hearing her brother, who prided himself upon being a great
+mathematician, say that if one counted ten, over and over again, till
+they were very tired, they would fall asleep without knowing it. She
+tried this experiment, but her heart kept time with its loud, quick
+beatings; so loud, so quick, she sometimes mistook them for the skeleton
+foot-tramps of the traveler. She was sure she heard a rustling in the
+chimney, a clattering against the walls. She thought she felt a chilly
+breath sweep over her cheek. At length, unable to endure the awful
+oppression of her fears, she resolved to make a desperate attempt, and
+rush down stairs to her mother, telling her she should die if she
+remained where she was. It was horrible to go down alone in the
+darkness, it was more horrible to remain in that haunted room. So,
+gathering up all her courage, she jumped from the bed, and sought the
+door with her nervous, grasping hands. Her little feet turned to ice, as
+their naked soles scampered over the bare floor, but she did not mind
+that; she found the door, opened it, and entered a long, dark passage,
+leading to the stairway. Then she recollected that on the left of that
+passage there was a lumber-room, running out slantingly to the eaves of
+the house, with a low entrance into it, which was left without a door.
+This lumber-room had long been her especial terror. Whenever she passed
+it, even in broad daylight, it had a strange, mysterious appearance to
+her. The twilight shadows always gathered there first and lingered last;
+she never walked by it--she always ran with all her speed, as if the
+avenger of blood were behind her. Now she would have flown if she could,
+but her long night dress impeded her motions, and clung adhesively round
+her ankles. Once she trod upon it, and thinking some one arrested her,
+she uttered a loud scream and sprang forward through the door, which
+chanced to be open. This door was directly at the head of the stairs,
+and it is not at all surprising that Helen, finding it impossible to
+recover her equilibrium, should pass over the steps in a quicker manner
+than she intended, swift as her footsteps were. Down she went, tumbling
+and bumping, till she came against the lower door with a force that
+burst it open, and in rolled a yellow flannel ball into the centre of
+the illuminated apartment.
+
+"My stars!" exclaimed Mrs. Gleason, starting up from the centre table,
+and dropping a bundle of snowy linen on the floor.
+
+"What in the name of creation is this?" cried Mr. Gleason, throwing down
+his book, as the yellow ball rolled violently against his legs.
+
+Louis Gleason, a boy of twelve, who was seated with the fingers of his
+left hand playing hide and seek among his bright elf locks, while his
+right danced over a slate, making algebra signs with marvelous rapidity,
+jumped up three feet in the air, letting his slate fall with a
+tremendous crash, and destroying many a beautiful equation.
+
+Mittie Gleason, a young girl of about nine, who was deep in the
+abstractions of grammar, and sat with her fore-fingers in her ears, and
+her head bent down to her book, so that all disturbing sounds might be
+excluded, threw her chair backward in the fright, and ran head first
+against Miss Thusa, who was the only one whose self-possession did not
+seem shocked by the unceremonious entrance of the little visitor.
+
+"It's nobody in the world but little Helen," said she, gathering up the
+bundle in her arms and carrying it towards the blazing fire. The child,
+who had been only stunned, not injured by the fall, began to recover the
+use of its faculties, and opened its large, wild-looking eyes on the
+family group we have described.
+
+"She has been walking in her sleep, poor little thing," said her mother,
+pressing her cold hands in both hers.
+
+Helen knew that this was not the case, and she knew too, that it was
+wrong to sanction by her silence an erroneous impression, but she was
+afraid of her father's anger if she confessed the truth, afraid that he
+would send her back to the dark room and lonely trundle-bed. She
+expected that Miss Thusa would call her a foolish child, and tell her
+parents all her terrors of the _worm-eaten traveler_, and she raised her
+timid eyes to her face, wondering at her silence. There was something in
+those prophetic orbs, which she could not read. There seemed to be a
+film over them, baffling her penetration, and she looked down with a
+long, laboring breath.
+
+Miss Thusa began to feel that her legends might make a deeper impression
+than she imagined or intended. She experienced an odd mixture of triumph
+and regret--triumph in her power, and regret for its consequences. She
+had, too, an instinctive sense that the parents of Helen would be
+displeased with her, were they aware of the influence she had exerted,
+and deprive her hereafter of the most admiring auditor that ever hung on
+her oracular lips. She had _meant_ no harm, but she was really sorry she
+had told that "powerful story" at such a late hour, and pressed the
+child closer in her arms with a tenderness deepened by self-reproach.
+
+"I suspect Miss Thusa has been telling her some of her awful ghost
+stories," said Louis, laughing over the wreck of his slate. "I know what
+sent the yellow caterpillar crawling down stairs."
+
+"Crawling!" repeated his father, "I think it was leaping, bouncing, more
+like a catamount than a caterpillar."
+
+"I would be ashamed to be a coward and afraid of ghosts," exclaimed
+Mittie, with a scornful flash of her bright, black eyes.
+
+"Miss Thusa didn't tell about ghosts," said Helen, bursting into a
+passion of tears. This was true, in the _letter_, but not in the
+_spirit_--and, young as she was, she knew and felt it, and the wormwood
+of remorse gave bitterness to her tears. Never had she felt so wretched,
+so humiliated. She had fallen in her own estimation. Her father, brother
+and sister had ridiculed her and _called her names_--a terrible thing
+for a child. One had called her a _caterpillar_, another a _catamount_,
+and a third a _coward_. And added to all this was a sudden and
+unutterable horror of the color of yellow, formerly her favorite hue.
+She mentally resolved never to wear that horrible yellow night dress,
+which had drawn upon her so many odious epithets, even though she froze
+to death without it. She would rather wear her old ones, even if they
+had ten thousand patches, than that bright, new, golden tinted garment,
+so late the object of her intense admiration.
+
+"I declare," cried Louis, unconscious of the Spartan resolution his
+little sister was forming, and good naturedly seeking to turn her tears
+into smiles, "I do declare, I thought Helen was a pumpkin, bursting into
+the room with such a noise, wrapped up in this yellow concern. Mother,
+what in the name of all that's tasteful, makes you clothe her by night
+in Chinese mourning?"
+
+"It was her own choice," replied Mrs. Gleason, taking the weeping child
+in her own lap. "She saw a little girl dressed in this style, and
+thought she would be perfectly happy to be the possessor of such a
+garment."
+
+"I never will put it on again as long as I live," sobbed Helen. "Every
+body laughs at it."
+
+"Perhaps somebody else will have a word to say about it," said her
+mother, in a grave, gentle voice. "When I have taken so much pains to
+make it, and bind it with soft, bright ribbon, to please my little girl,
+it seems to me that it is very ungrateful in her to make such a remark
+as that."
+
+"Oh, mother, don't," was all Helen could utter; and she made as strong a
+counter resolve that she would wear the most hideous garment, and brave
+the ridicule of the whole world, rather than expose herself to the
+displeasure of a mother so kind and so indulgent.
+
+"You had better put her back in bed," said Mr. Gleason; "children
+acquire such bad habits by indulgence."
+
+Helen trembled and clung close to her mother's bosom.
+
+"I fear she may again rise in her sleep and fall down stairs," said the
+more anxious mother.
+
+"Turn the key on the outside, till we retire ourselves," observed the
+father.
+
+To be locked up alone in the darkness! Helen felt as if she had heard
+her death-warrant, and pale even to _blueness_, she leaned against her
+mother, incapable of articulating the prayer that trembled on her ashy
+lips.
+
+"Give her to me," said Miss Thusa, "I will take her up stairs and stay
+with her till you come."
+
+"Oh, no, there is no fire in the room, and you will be cold. Mr.
+Gleason, the child is sick and faint. She has scarcely any pulse--and
+look, what a blue shade round her mouth. Helen, my darling, do tell me
+what _is_ the matter with you."
+
+"Her eyes do look very wild," said her father, catching the infection of
+his wife's fears; "and her temples are hot and throbbing. I hope she is
+not threatened with an inflammation of the brain."
+
+"Oh! Mr. Gleason, pray don't suggest such a thought; I cannot bear it,"
+cried Mrs. Gleason, with quivering accents. They had lost one lovely
+child, the very counterpart of Helen, by that fearful disease, and she
+felt as if the gleaming sword of the destroying angel were again waving
+over her household.
+
+"You had better send for the doctor," she continued; "just so suddenly
+was our lost darling attacked."
+
+Mr. Gleason started up and seized his hat, but Louis sprang to the door
+first.
+
+"Let me go, father--I can run the fastest."
+
+And those who met the excited boy running through the street, supposed
+it was a life-errand on which he was dispatched.
+
+The doctor came--not the old family physician, whose age and experience
+entitled him to the most implicit confidence--but a youthful partner, to
+whom childhood was a mysterious and somewhat unapproachable thing.
+
+Of what fine, almost imperceptible links is the chain of deception
+formed! Helen had no intention of acting the part of a dissembler when
+she formed the desperate resolution of leaving her lonely chamber. She
+expected to meet reproaches, perhaps punishment, but anything was
+preferable to the horrors of her own imagination. But when she found
+herself greeted as a sleep-walker, she had not the moral courage to
+close, by an avowal of the truth, the door of escape a mother's gentle
+hand had unconsciously opened. She did nut mean to dissemble sickness,
+but when her mother pleaded sickness as a reason for not sending her
+back to the lone, dark chamber, she yielded to the plea, and really
+began to think herself very ill. Her head did throb and ache, and her
+eyes burned, as if hot sand were sprinkled over the balls. She was not
+afraid of the doctor's medicine, for the last time he had prescribed for
+her, he had given her peppermint, dropped on white sugar, which had a
+very pleasing and palatable taste. She loved the old doctor, with his
+frosty hair and sunny smile, and lay quietly in her mother's arms, quite
+resigned to her fate, surprising as it was. But when she beheld a
+strange and youthful face bending over her, with a pair of penetrating,
+dark eyes, that looked as if they could read the deepest secrets of the
+heart, she shrank back in dismay, assured the mystery of her illness
+would all be revealed. The next glance reassured her. She was sure he
+would be kind, and not give her anything nauseous or dreadful. She
+watched his cheek, as he leaned over her, to feel her pulse, wondering
+what made such a beautiful color steal over it growing brighter and
+brighter, till it looked as if the fire had been glowing upon it. She
+did not know how very young he was, and this was the first time he had
+ever been called to visit a patient alone, and that she, little child as
+she was, was a very formidable object to him--considered as a being for
+whose life he might be in a measure responsible.
+
+"I would give her a composing mixture," said he, gently releasing the
+slender wrist of his patient--"her brain seems greatly excited, but I do
+not apprehend anything like an inflammation need be dreaded. She is very
+nervous, and must be kept quiet."
+
+Helen felt such inexpressible relief, that forgetting her character of
+an invalid, she lifted her head, and gave him such a radiant look of
+gratitude it quite startled him.
+
+"See!" exclaimed Louis, rubbing his hands, "how bright she looks. The
+doctor's coming has made her well."
+
+"Don't make such a fuss, brother, I can't study," cried Mittie, tossing
+her hair impatiently from her brow. "I don't believe she's any more sick
+than I am, she just does it to be petted."
+
+"Mittie!" said her mother, glancing towards the young doctor.
+
+Mittie, with a sudden motion of the head peculiar to herself, brought
+the hair again over her face, till it touched the leaves of the book, in
+whose contents she seemed absorbed; but she peeped at the young doctor
+through her thick, falling locks, and thought if she were sick, she
+would much rather send for him than old Doctor Sennar.
+
+The next morning Helen was really ill and feverish. The excitement of
+the previous evening had caused a tension of the brain, which justified
+the mother's fears. At night she became delirious, and raved
+incoherently about _the worm-eaten traveler_, the spinning-woman, and
+the grave-house to which they were bound.
+
+Mrs. Gleason sat on one side of her, holding her restless hand in hers,
+while Miss Thusa applied wet napkins to her burning temples. The mother
+shuddered as she listened to the child's wild words, and something of
+the truth flashed upon her mind.
+
+"I fear," said she, raising her eyes, and fixing them mildly but
+reproachfully on Miss Thusa's face--"you have been exciting my little
+girl's imagination in a dangerous manner, by relating tales of dreadful
+import. I know you have done it in kindness," added she, fearful of
+giving pain, "but Helen is different from other children, and cannot
+bear the least excitement."
+
+"She's always asking me to tell her stories," answered Miss Thusa, "and
+I love the dear child too well to deny her. There is something very
+uncommon about her. I never saw a child that would set and listen to old
+people as she will. I never did think she would live to grow up; she
+wasn't well last night, or she wouldn't have been scared; I noticed that
+one cheek was red as a cherry, and the other as white as snow--a sign
+the fever was in her blood."
+
+Miss Thusa, like many other metaphysicians, mistook the effect for the
+cause, and thus stilled, with unconscious sophistry, the upbraidings of
+her conscience.
+
+Helen here tossed upon her feverish couch, and opening her eyes, looked
+wildly towards the chimney.
+
+"Hark! Miss Thusa," she exclaimed, "it's coming. Don't you hear it
+clattering down the chimney? Don't leave me--don't leave me in the
+dark--I'm afraid--I'm afraid."
+
+It was well for Miss Thusa that Mr. Gleason was not present, to hear the
+ravings of his child, or his doors would hereafter have been barred
+against her. Mrs. Gleason, while she mourned over the consequences of
+her admission, would as soon have cut off her own right hand as she
+would have spoken harshly or unkindly to the poor, lone woman. She
+warned her, however, from feeding, in this insane manner, the morbid
+imagination of her child, and gently forbid her ever repeating _that
+awful story_, which had made, apparently, so dark and deep an
+impression.
+
+"Above all things, my dear Miss Thusa," said she, repressing a little
+dry, hacking cough, that often interrupted her speech--"never give her
+any horrible idea of death. I know that such impressions can never be
+effaced--I know it by my own experience. The grave has ever been to me a
+gloomy subject of contemplation, though I gaze upon it with the lamp of
+faith in my hand, and the remembrance that the Son of God made His bed
+in its darkness, that light might be left there for me and mine."
+
+Miss Thusa looked at Mrs. Gleason as she uttered these sentiments, and
+the glance of her solemn eye grew earnest as she gazed. Such was the
+usual quietness and reserve of the speaker, she was not prepared for so
+much depth of thought and feeling. As she gazed, too, she remarked an
+appearance of emaciation and suffering about her face, which had
+hitherto escaped her observation. She recollected her as she first saw
+her, a beautiful and blooming woman, and now there was bloom without
+beauty, and brightness without beauty, for the color on the cheek and
+the gleam of the eye, made one wish for pallor and dimness, as less
+painful and less prophetic.
+
+"Yes, Miss Thusa," resumed Mrs. Gleason, after a long pause, "if my
+child lives, I wish her guarded most carefully from all gloomy
+influences. I know that I must soon leave her, for I have an hereditary
+malady, whose symptoms have lately been much aggravated. I have long
+since resigned myself to my doom, knowing that my Heavenly Father knows
+when it is best to call me home. But I cannot bear that my children
+should shrink from all I shall leave behind, my memory. Louis is a bold
+and noble boy. I fear not for him. His reason even now has the strength
+of manhood. Mittie has very little sensibility or imagination; too
+little of the first I fear to be very lovable. But perhaps it will be
+better for her in the end. Helen is all sensibility and imagination. I
+tremble for her. I am haunted by a strange apprehension that my memory
+will be a ghost that she will seek to shun. Oh! Miss Thusa, you cannot
+think how painful this idea is to me. I want her to love me when I am
+gone, to think of me as a guardian angel watching over and blessing her.
+I want her to think of me as living in Heaven, not mouldering away in
+the cold ground. Promise me that you will never more give her any
+terrible idea associated with death and the grave."
+
+Mrs. Gleason paused, and pressing her handkerchief over her eyes, leaned
+back in her chair with a deep sigh. Was this the quiet, practical
+housekeeper, who always went with stilly steps so noiselessly about her
+daily tasks that no one would think she was doing anything if it were
+not for the results?
+
+Was _she_ talking of dying, who had never yet omitted one household
+duty or one neighborly office? Yes! in the stillness of the night,
+interrupted only by the delirious moanings of the sick child, she laid
+aside the mantle of reserve that usually enveloped her, and suffered her
+soul to be visible--for a little while.
+
+"I will try to remember all you've said, and abide by it," said Miss
+Thusa, who, in her dark gray dress, and black silk handkerchief tied
+under her chin, looked something like a cowled friar, of "orders gray,"
+"but when one has a _gift_ it's hard to keep it back. I don't always
+know myself what I'm going to tell, but speak as I'm moved, as the Bible
+men used to do in old times. Every body has a way and a taste of their
+own, I know, and some take to one thing, and some to another. Now, I
+always did take to what some folks thinks dreadful things. Perhaps it's
+because I've been a lone woman, and led a sort of spiritual life. I
+never took any pleasure in merry-making and frolicking. I'd rather go to
+a funeral than a wedding, any day, and I'd rather look at a shrouded
+corpse, than a bride tricked out in her laces and flowers. I know it's
+strange, but it's true--and there's no use in going against the natural
+grain. You can't do it. If I take up a newspaper, I see the deaths and
+murders before anything else. They stare one right in the face, and I
+don't see anything else."
+
+"What a very peculiar temperament," said Mrs. Gleason, thoughtfully.
+"Were you conscious of the same tastes when a child?"
+
+"I can hardly remember being a child. It seems to me I never was one. I
+always had such old feelings. My father and mother died when I was a
+baby. There was nobody left but my brother--and--me. He was the
+strangest being that ever lived. He locked up his heart and kept the
+key, so nobody could get a peep inside. I had nobody to love, nobody who
+loved me, so I got to loving my spinning-wheel and my own thoughts. When
+brother fell sick and grew nervous and peevish, he didn't like the hum
+of the wheel, and I had to spin at night in the chimney corner, by the
+flash of the embers, and the company I was to myself the Lord only
+knows. I'll tell you what, Mrs. Gleason," added she, taking her
+spectacles from her forehead, wiping them carefully, and then putting
+them right on the top of her head, "God didn't mean every body to be
+alike. Some look up and some look down, but if they've got the right
+spirit, they're all looking after God and truth. If I talk of the grave
+more than common, it's because I know it's nothing but an underground
+passage to eternity."
+
+"I thank God for teaching me to look upward at last," cried Mrs.
+Gleason, and the quick, panting breath of little Helen was heard
+distinctly in the silence that followed. Her soul reached forward
+anxiously into futurity. If it were possible to change Miss Thusa's
+opinions and peculiarities into something after the similitude of her
+kind! Change Miss Thusa! As soon might you expect to change the gnarled
+and rooted oak into the flexible and breeze-bowed willow. Her
+idiosyncrasy had been so nursed and strengthened by the two great
+influences, time and solitude, it spread like the banyan tree, making a
+dark pavilion, where legions of weird spirits gathered and revelled.
+
+Miss Thusa is one instance out of many, of a being with strong mind and
+warm heart, cheated of objects on which to expend the vigor of the one,
+or the fervor of the other. The energies of her character, finding no
+legitimate outlet, beat back upon herself, wearing away by continued
+friction the fine perception of beauty and susceptibility of true
+enjoyment. The vine that finds no support for its _upward_ growth,
+grovels on the earth and covers it with rank, unshapely leaves. The
+mountain stream, turned back from its course, becomes a dark and
+stagnant pool. Even if the rank and long-neglected vine is made to twine
+round some sustaining fabric, it carries with it the dampness and the
+soil of the earth to which it has been clinging. Its tendrils are heavy,
+and have a downward tendency.
+
+In a few days the fever-tide subsided in the veins of Helen.
+
+"I will not take it," said she, when the young doctor gave her some
+bitter draught to swallow; "it tastes too bad."
+
+"You _will_ take it," he replied, calmly, holding the glass in his hand,
+and fixing on her the serene darkness of his eyes. He did not press it
+to her lips, or use any coercion. He merely looked steadfastly, yet
+gently into her face, while the deep color she had noticed the first
+night she saw him came slowly into his cheeks. He did not say "you
+_must_," but "you _will_," and she felt the difference. She felt the
+singular union of gentleness and power exhibited in his countenance, and
+was constrained to yield. Without making farther resistance, she put
+forth her hand, took the glass, and swallowed the potion at one draught.
+
+"It will do you good," said he, with a grave smile, but he did not
+praise her.
+
+"Why didn't you tell me so before?" she asked.
+
+"You must learn to confide in your friends," he replied, passing his
+hand gently over the child's wan brow. "You must trust them, without
+asking them for reasons for what they do."
+
+Helen thought she would try to remember this, and it seemed easy to
+remember what the young doctor said, for the voice of Arthur Hazleton
+was very sweet and clear, and seemed to vibrate on the ear like a
+musical instrument.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+    ----"with burnished neck of verdant gold, erect
+    Amid his circling spires, that on the grass
+    Floated redundant,--she busied heard the sound
+    Of rustling leaves, but minded not, _at first_."--_Milton._
+
+
+Helen recovered, and the agitation caused by her sickness having
+subsided, everything went on apparently as it did before. While she was
+sick, Mrs. Gleason resolved that she would keep her as much as possible
+from Miss Thusa's influence, and endeavor to counteract it by a closer,
+more confiding union with herself. But every one knows how quickly the
+resolutions, formed in the hour of danger, are forgotten in the moment
+of safety--and how difficult it is to break through daily habits of
+life. Even when the pulse beats high with health, and the heart glows
+with conscious energy, it is difficult. How much more so, when the whole
+head is sick, and the whole spirit is faint--when the lightest duty
+becomes a burden, and _rest_, nothing but _rest_, is the prayer of the
+weary soul!
+
+The only perceptible change in the family arrangements was, that Miss
+Thusa carried her wheel at night into the nursery, and installed herself
+there as the guardian of Helen's slumbers. The little somnambulist, as
+she was supposed to be, required a watch, and when Miss Thusa offered to
+sit by the fire-side till the family retired to rest, Mrs. Gleason could
+not be so ungrateful as to refuse, though she ventured to reiterate the
+warning, breathed by the feverish couch of her child. This warning Miss
+Thusa endeavored to bear in mind, and illumined the gloomy grandeur of
+her legends by some lambent rays of fancy--but they were lightning
+flashes playing about ruins, suggesting ideas of desolation and decay.
+
+Let it not be supposed that Helen's life was all shadow. Oh, no! In
+proportion as she shuddered at darkness, and trembled before the
+spectres her own imagination created, she rejoiced in sunshine, and
+revelled in the bright glories of creation. She was all darkness or all
+light. There was no twilight about her. Never had a child a more
+exquisite perception of the beautiful, and as at night she delineated to
+herself the most awful and appalling images that imagination can
+conceive, by day she beheld forms more lovely than ever visited the
+poet's dream. She could see angels cradled on the glowing bosom of the
+sunset clouds, angels braiding the rainbow of the sky. Light to her was
+peopled with angels, as darkness with phantoms. The brilliant-winged
+butterflies were the angels of the flowers--the gales that fanned her
+cheeks the invisible angels of the trees. If Helen had lived in a world
+all of sunshine, she would have been the happiest being in the world.
+Moonlight, too, she loved--it seemed like a dream of the sun. But it was
+only in the presence of others she loved it. She feared to be alone in
+it--it was so still and holy, and then it made such deep shadows where
+it did not shine! Yes! Helen would have been happy in a world of
+sunshine--but we are born for the shadow as well as the sunbeam, and
+they who cannot walk unfearing through the gloom, as well as the
+brightness, are ill-fitted for the pilgrimage of life.
+
+Childhood is naturally prone to superstition and fear. The intensity of
+suffering it endures from these sources is beyond description.
+
+We remember, when a child, with what chillness of awe we used to listen
+to the wind sighing through the long branches of the elm trees, as they
+trailed against the window panes, for nursery legends had associated the
+sound with the moaning of ghosts, and the flapping of invisible wings.
+We remember having strange, indescribable dreams, when the mystery of
+our young existence seemed to press down upon us with the weight of
+iron, and fill us with nameless horror. When a something seemed swelling
+and expanding and rolling in our souls, like an immense, fiery globe
+_within us_, and yet we were carried around with it, and we felt it must
+forever be rolling and enlarging, and we must forever be rolling along
+with it. We remember having this dream night after night, and when we
+awakened, the first thought was _eternity_, and we thought if we went on
+dreaming, we should find out what eternity meant. We were afraid to tell
+the dream, from a vague fear that it was wrong, that it might be
+thought we were trying to pierce into the mystery of God, and it was
+wicked in a child thus to do.
+
+Helen used to say, whenever she fell asleep in the day-time under a
+green tree, or on the shady bank of a stream, as she often did, that she
+had the brightest, most beautiful dreams--and she wished it was the
+_fashion_ for people to sleep by day instead of night.
+
+Slowly, almost imperceptibly Mrs. Gleason's strength wasted away. She
+still kept her place at the family board, and continued her labors of
+love, but the short, dry, hacking cough assumed a more hollow, deeper
+sound, and every day the red spot on her cheek grew brighter, as the
+shades of night came on. Mittie heeded not the change in her mother, but
+the affectionate heart of Louis felt many a sad foreboding, as his
+subdued steps and hushed laugh plainly told. He was naturally joyous and
+gay, even to rudeness, always playing some good-natured but teasing
+prank on his little sister, and making the house ring with his
+merriment. Now, whenever that hollow cough rung in his ears, he would
+start as if a knife pierced him, and it would be a long time before his
+laugh would be heard again. He redoubled his filial attentions, and
+scarcely ever entered the house without bringing something which he
+thought would please her taste, or be grateful to her feelings.
+
+"Mother, see what a nice string of fishes. I am sure you will like
+these."
+
+"Oh! mother, here are the sweetest flowers you ever saw. Do smell of
+them, they are so reviving."
+
+The tender smile, the fond caress which rewarded these love-offerings
+were very precious to the warm-hearted boy, though he often ran out of
+the house to hide the tears they forced into his eyes.
+
+Helen knew that her mother was not well, for she now reclined a great
+deal on the sofa, and Doctor Sennar came to see her every day, and
+sometimes the young doctor accompanied him, and when he did, he always
+took a great deal of notice of her, and said something she could not
+help remembering. Perhaps it was the peculiar glance of his eye that
+fixed the impression, as the characters written in indelible ink are
+pale and illegible till exposed to a slow and gentle fire.
+
+"You ought to do all you can for your mother," said he, while he held
+her in his lap, and Doctor Sennar counted her mother's pulse by the
+ticking of his large gold watch.
+
+"I am too little to do any good," answered she, sighing at her own
+insignificance.
+
+"You can be very still and gentle."
+
+"But that isn't doing anything, is it?"
+
+"When you are older," said the young doctor, "you will find it is harder
+to keep from doing wrong than to do what is right."
+
+Helen did not understand the full force of what he said, but the saying
+remained in her memory.
+
+The next day, and the bloom of early summer was on the plains, and its
+deep, blue glory on the sky, Helen thought again and again what she
+should do for her mother. At length she remembered that some one had
+said that the strawberries were ripe, and that her mother had longed
+exceedingly for a dish of strawberries and cream. This was something
+that even Louis had not done for her, and her heart throbbed with joy
+and exultation in anticipation of the offering she could make.
+
+With a bright tin bucket, that shone like burnished silver in the
+sunbeams, swinging on her arm, she stole out of the back door, and ran
+down a narrow lane, till she came to an open field, where the young corn
+was waving its silken tassels, and potato vines frolicking at its feet.
+The long, shining leaves of the young corn threw off the sunlight like
+polished steel, and Helen thought she had never seen anything so
+beautiful in all her life. She stopped and pulled off the soft, tender,
+green silken tassels, hanging them over her ears, and twisting some in
+her hair, as if she were a mermaid, her "sea-green ringlets braiding."
+Then springing from hillock to hillock, she reached the end of the
+field, and jumped over a fence that skirted a meadow, along which a
+clear, blue stream glided like an azure serpent in glittering coils,
+under the shade of innumerable hickory trees. Helen became so enchanted
+with the beauty of the landscape, that she forgot her mother and the
+strawberries, forgot there were such things as night and darkness in the
+universe. Taking off her shoes and tying them to the handle of her
+bucket, she went down to the edge of the stream, and dipping her feet in
+the cool water, waded along close to the bank, and the little wavelets
+curled round her ankles as if they loved to play with anything so smooth
+and white. Then she saw bright specks of mica shining on the sand, and
+she sprang out of the water to gather them, wondering if pearls and
+diamonds ever looked half so beautiful.
+
+"How I wish strawberries grew under water," cried Helen, suddenly
+recollecting her filial mission. "How I wish they did not grow under the
+long grass!"
+
+The light faded from her face, and the dimness of fear came over it. She
+had an unutterable dread of snakes, for they were the _heroes_ of some
+of Miss Thusa's awful legends, and she knew they lurked in the long
+grass, and were said to be especially fond of strawberries. Strange, in
+her eager desire to do something for her mother, she had forgotten the
+ambushed foe she most dreaded by day--now she wondered she had dared to
+think of coming.
+
+"I will go back," thought she; "I dare not jump over that fence and wade
+about in grass as high as my head."
+
+"You must do all you can for your mother," echoed in clear, silver
+accents in her memory; "Louis will gather them if I do not," continued
+she, "and she will never know how much I love her. All little children
+pick strawberries for themselves, and I never heard of one being bitten
+by a snake. If I pick them for my mother instead of myself, I don't
+believe God will let them hurt me."
+
+While thus meditating, she had reached the fence, and stepping on the
+lower rails, she peeped over into the deep, green patch. As the wind
+waved the grass to and fro, she caught glimpses of the reddening
+berries, and her cheeks glowed with excitement. They were so thick, and
+looked so rich and delicious! She would keep very near the fence, and if
+a snake should crawl near her, she could get upon the topmost rails, and
+it could not reach her there. One jump, and the struggle was over. She
+plunged in a sea of verdure, while the strawberries glowed like coral
+beneath. They hung in large, thick clusters, touching each other, so
+that it would be an easy thing to fill her bucket before the sun went
+down. She would not pick the whole clusters, because some were green
+still, and she had heard her mother say, that it was a waste of God's
+bounty, and a robbery of those who came afterwards, to pluck and destroy
+unripe fruit. Several times she started, thinking she heard a rustling
+in the leaves, but it was only the wind whispering to them as it passed.
+She stained her cheeks and the palms of her hands with the crimson
+juice, thinking it would make her mother smile, resolving to look at
+herself in the water as she returned.
+
+Her bucket, which was standing quietly on the ground, was almost full;
+she was stooping down, with her sun-bonnet pushed back from her glowing
+face, to secure the largest and best berries which she had yet seen,
+when she _did_ hear a rustling in the grass very near, and looking
+round, there was a large, long snake, winding slowly, carefully towards
+the bucket, with little gleaming eyes, that looked like burning glass
+set in emerald. It seemed to glow with all the colors of the rainbow, so
+radiant it was in yellow, green and gold, striped with the blackest jet.
+For one moment, Helen stood stupefied with terror, fascinated by the
+terrible beauty of the object on which she was gazing. Then giving a
+loud, shrill shriek, she bounded to the fence, climbed over it, and
+jumped to the ground with a momentum so violent that she fell and rolled
+several paces on the earth. Something cold twined round her feet and
+ankles. With a gasp of despair, Helen gave herself up for lost, assured
+she was in the coils of the snake, and that its venom was penetrating
+through her whole frame.
+
+"I shall die," thought she, "and mother will never know how I came here
+alone to gather strawberries, that she might eat and be well."
+
+As she felt no sting, no pain, and the snake lay perfectly still, she
+ventured to steal a glance at her feet, and saw that it was a piece of a
+vine that she had caught in her flight, and which her fears had
+converted into the embrace of an adder. Springing up with the velocity
+of lightning, she darted along, regardless of the beauty of the stream,
+in whose limpid waters she had thought to behold her crimson-stained
+cheeks. She ran on, panting, glowing--the perspiration, hot as drops of
+molten lead, streaming down her face, looking furtively back, every now
+and then, to see if that gorgeous creature, with glittering coils and
+burning eyes were not gliding at her heels. At length, blinded and dizzy
+from the speed with which she had run, she fell against an opposing body
+just at the entrance of the lane.
+
+"Why, Helen, what is the matter?" exclaimed a well-known voice, and she
+knew she was safe. It was the young doctor, who loved to walk on the
+banks of that beautiful stream, when the shadows of the tall hickories
+lengthened on the grass.
+
+Helen was too breathless to speak, but he knew, by her clinging hold,
+that she sought protection from some real or imaginary danger. While he
+pitied her evident fright, he could not help smiling at her grotesque
+appearance. The perspiration, dripping from her forehead, had made
+channels through the crimson dye on her cheeks, and her chin, which had
+been buried in the ground when she fell, was all covered with mud. Her
+frock was soiled and torn, her bonnet twisted so that the strings hung
+dangling over her shoulder. A more forlorn, wild-looking little figure,
+can scarcely be imagined, and it is not strange that the young doctor
+found it difficult to suppress a laugh.
+
+"And so you left your strawberries behind," said he, after hearing the
+history of her fright and flight. "It seems to me I would not have
+treated the snake so daintily. Suppose we go back and cheat him of his
+nice supper, after all."
+
+"Oh! no--no--no," exclaimed Helen, emphatically. "I wouldn't go for all
+the strawberries in the whole world."
+
+"Not when they would do your sick mother good?" said he, gravely.
+
+"But the snake!" cried she, with a shudder.
+
+"It is perfectly harmless. If you took it in your hand and played with
+it, it would not hurt you. Those beautiful, bright-striped creatures
+have no venom in them. Come, let us step down to the edge of the stream
+and wash the stains from your face and hands, and then you shall show me
+where your strawberries are waiting for us in the long grass."
+
+He took her hand and attempted to draw her along, but she resisted with
+astonishing strength, planting her back against the railing that divided
+the lane from the corn-field.
+
+"Helen, you _will_ come with me," said he, in the same tone, and with
+the same magnetic glance, with which he had once before subdued her.
+She remained still a few moments, then the rigid muscles began to relax,
+and hanging down her head, she sobbed aloud.
+
+"You will come," repeated he, leading her gently along towards the bank
+of the stream, "because you know I would not lead you into danger, and
+because if you do not try to conquer such fears, they will make you very
+unhappy through life. Don't you wish to be useful and do good to others,
+when you grow older?"
+
+"Oh, yes," replied Helen, with animation--"but," added she,
+despondingly, "I never shall."
+
+"It depends upon yourself," replied her friend; "some of the greatest
+men that ever lived, were once timid little children. They made
+themselves great by overcoming their fears, by having a strong will."
+
+They were now close to the water, which, just where they stood, was as
+still and smooth as glass. Helen saw herself in the clear, blue mirror,
+and laughed aloud--then she blushed to think how strange and ugly she
+looked. Eagerly scooping up the water in the hollow of her hand, she
+bathed her face, and removed the disfiguring stains.
+
+"You have no napkin," said the young doctor, taking a snowy linen
+handkerchief from his pocket, which emitted a sweet, faint, rose-like
+perfume. "Will this do?"
+
+He wiped her face, which looked fairer than ever after the ablution, and
+then first one and then the other of her trembling hands, for they still
+trembled from nervous agitation.
+
+"How kind, how good he is!" thought Helen, as his hand passed gently
+over her brow, smoothing back the moist and tangled hair, then glided
+against her cheek, while he arranged the twisted bonnet and untied the
+dangling strings, which had tightened into a hard and obstinate knot. "I
+wonder what makes him so kind and good to me?"
+
+When they came to the fence, surrounding the strawberry-field, Helen's
+steps involuntarily grew slower, and she hung back heavily on the hand
+of her companion. Her old fears came rushing over her, drowning her
+new-born courage.
+
+Arthur laid his hand on the top rail, and vaulted over as lightly as a
+bird, then held out his arms towards her.
+
+"Climb, and I will catch you," said he, with an encouraging smile. Poor
+little Helen felt constrained to obey him, though she turned white as
+snow--and when he took her in his arms, he felt her heart beating and
+fluttering like the wings of a caged humming-bird.
+
+"Ah, I see the silver bucket," he cried, "all filled with strawberries.
+The enemy is fled; the coast is clear."
+
+He still held her in his arms, while he stooped and lifted the bucket,
+then again vaulted over the fence, as if no burden impeded his
+movements.
+
+"You are safe," said he, "and you can now gladden your mother's heart by
+this sweet offering. Are you sorry you came?"
+
+"Oh! no," she replied, "I feel happy now." She insisted upon his eating
+part of the strawberries, but he refused, and as they walked home, he
+gathered green leaves and flowers, and made a garland round them.
+
+"What makes you so good to me?" she exclaimed, with an irresistible
+impulse, looking gratefully in his face.
+
+"Because I like you," he replied; "you remind me, too, of a dear little
+sister of mine, whom I love very tenderly. Poor unfortunate Alice! Your
+lot is happier than hers."
+
+"What makes _me_ happier?" asked Helen, thinking that one who had so
+kind a brother ought to be happy.
+
+"She is blind," he replied, "she never saw one ray of light."
+
+"Oh! how dreadful!" cried Helen, "to live all the time in the dark! Oh!
+I should be afraid to live at all!"
+
+"I said you were happier, Helen; but I recall my words. She is not
+afraid, though all the time midnight shadows surround her. A sweet smile
+usually rests upon her face, and her step is light and springy as the
+grasshopper's leap."
+
+"But it must be so dreadful to be blind!" repeated Helen. "How I do pity
+her!"
+
+"It is a great misfortune, one of the greatest that can be inflicted
+upon a human being--but she does not murmur. She confides in the love of
+those around her, and feels as if their eyes were her own. Were I to ask
+her to walk over burning coals, she would put her hand in mine, to lead
+her, so entire is her trust, so undoubting is her faith."
+
+"How I wish I could be like her!" said Helen, in a tone of deep
+humility.
+
+"You are like her at this moment, for you have gone where you believed
+great danger was lurking, trusting in my promise of protection and
+safety,--trusting in me, who am almost a stranger to you."
+
+Helen's heart glowed within her at his approving words, and she rejoiced
+more than ever that she had obeyed his will. Her sympathies were
+painfully awakened for the blind child, and she asked him a thousand
+questions, which he answered with unwearied patience. She repeated over
+and over again the sweet name of Alice, and wished it were hers, instead
+of Helen.
+
+At the great double gate, that opened into the wood-yard, Arthur left
+her, and she hastened on, proud of the victory she had obtained over
+herself. Mittie was standing in the back door; as Helen came up the
+steps, she pointed in derision at her soiled and disordered dress.
+
+"I couldn't help it," said Helen, trying to pass her, "I fell down."
+
+"Oh! what nice strawberries!" exclaimed Mittie, "and so many of them.
+Give me some."
+
+"Don't touch them, Mittie--they are for mother," cried Helen, spreading
+her hand over the top of the bucket, as Mittie seized the handle and
+jerked it towards her.
+
+"You little, stingy thing, I _will_ have some," cried Mittie, plunging
+her hand in the midst of them, while the sweet wild flowers which
+Arthur's hand had scattered over them, and the shining leaves with which
+he had bordered them, all fell on the steps. Helen felt as if scalding
+water were pouring into her veins, and in her passion she lifted her
+hand to strike her, when a hollow cough, issuing from her mother's room,
+arrested her. She remembered, too, what the young doctor had said, "that
+it was harder to keep from doing wrong, than to do what was right."
+
+"If he saw me strike Mittie, he would think it wrong," thought she,
+"though if he knew how bad she treats me, he'd say 'twas hard to keep
+from it."
+
+Kneeling on one knee, she picked up the scattered flowers, and on every
+flower a dew drop fell, and sparkled on its petals.
+
+They had a witness of whom they were not aware. The tall, gray figure of
+Miss Thusa, appeared in the opposite door, at the moment of Mittie's
+rude and greedy act. The meekness of Helen exasperated her still more
+against the offender, and striding across the passage, she seized Mittie
+by the arm, and swung her completely on one side.
+
+"Let me alone, old Madam Thusa," exclaimed Mittie, "I'm not going to
+mind _you_. That I'm not. You always take her part against me. Every
+body does--that makes me hate her."
+
+"For shame! for shame!" cried the tall monitor, "to talk so of your
+little sister. You're like the girl in the fairy tale, who was so
+spiteful that every time she spoke, toads and vipers crawled out of her
+mouth. Helen, I'll tell you that story to-night, before you go to
+sleep."
+
+Helen could have told her that she would rather not hear any thing of
+vipers that night, but she feared Miss Thusa would be displeased and
+think her ungrateful. Notwithstanding Mittie's unkindness and violence
+of temper, she did not like to have such dreadful ideas associated with
+her. When, however, she heard the whole story, at the usual witching
+hour, she felt the same fascination which had so often enthralled her.
+As it was summer, the blazing fire no longer illuminated the hearth, but
+a little lamp, whose rays flickered in the wind that faintly murmured in
+the chimney. Miss Thusa sat spinning by the open window, in the light of
+the solemn stars, and as she waxed more and more eloquent, she seemed to
+derive inspiration from their beams. She could see one twinkling all the
+time in the little gourd of water, swinging from her distaff, and in
+spite of her preference for the dark and the dreadful, she could not
+help stopping her wheel, to admire the trembling beauty of that solitary
+star.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+    "Pale as the corse o'er which she leaned,
+      As cold, with stifling breath,
+    Her spirit sunk before the might,
+      The majesty of death."
+
+    "A man severe he was, and stern to view,
+    I knew him well, and every truant knew--
+    Yet he was kind, or if severe in aught,
+    The love he bore for learning was in fault."
+
+    _Goldsmith._
+
+
+The darkened room, the stilly tread, the muffled knocker and slowly
+closing door, announced the presence of that kingly guest, who presides
+over the empire of _terror_ and the grave. The long-expected hour was
+arrived, and Mrs. Gleason lay supported by pillows, whose soft down
+would never more sink under the pressure of her weary head. The wasting
+fires of consumption had burned and burned, till nothing but the ashes
+of life were left, save a few smouldering embers, from which flashed
+occasionally a transient spark. Mr. Gleason sat at the bed's head, with
+that grave, stern, yet bitter grief on his countenance which bids
+defiance to tears. She had been a gentle and devoted wife, and her
+quiet, home-born virtues, not always fully appreciated, rose before his
+remembrance, like the angels in Jacob's dream, climbing up to Heaven.
+Louis stood behind him, his head bowed upon his shoulder, sobbing as if
+his heart would break. Helen was nestled in her father's arms, with the
+most profound and unutterable expression of grief and awe and dread, on
+her young face. She was told that her mother was dying, going away from
+her, never to return, and the anguish this conviction imparted would
+have found vent in shrieks, had not the awe with which she beheld the
+cold, gray shadows of death, slowly, solemnly rolling over the face she
+loved best on earth, the face which had always seemed to her the
+perfection of mortal beauty, paralyzed her tongue, and frozen the
+fountain of her tears. Mittie stood at the foot of the bed, looking at
+her mother through the opening of the curtain, partly veiled by the
+long, white fringe that hung heavily from the folds, and which the wind
+blew to and fro, with something like the sweep of the willow. The
+windows were all open to admit the air to the faintly heaving lungs of
+the sufferer, and gradually one curtain after another was lifted, as the
+struggle for breath and air increased, and the light of departing day
+streamed in on the sunken and altered features it was never more to
+illuminate. Mittie was awe struck, but she manifested no tenderness or
+sensibility. It was astonishing how so young a child could see _anyone_
+die, and above all a _mother_--a mother, so kind and affectionate, with
+so little emotion. She was far more oppressed by the realization of her
+own mortality, for the first time pressed home upon her, than by her
+impending bereavement. What were the feelings of that speechless,
+expiring, but fully conscious mother, as she gazed earnestly, wistfully,
+thrillingly on the group that surrounded her? There was the husband,
+whom she had so much loved, he, who often, when weary with business, and
+perplexed with anxiety, had seemed careless and indifferent, but who, as
+life waned away, had shown the tenderness of love's early day, and who
+she knew would mourn her deeply and _long_. There was her noble,
+handsome, warm-hearted, high-souled boy--the object of her pride, as
+well as her affection--he, who had never willfully given her a moment's
+pain--and though his irrepressive sighs and suffocating sobs she would
+have hushed, at the expense of all that remained of life to her--there
+was still a music in them to her dying ear, that told of love that would
+not forget, that would twine in perennial garlands round her grave. Poor
+little Helen, as she looked at her pale, agonized face, and saw the
+_terror_ imprinted there, she remembered what she had once said to Miss
+Thusa, of being after death an object of _terror_ to her child, and she
+felt a sting that no language could express. She longed to stretch out
+her feeble arms, to fold them round this child of her prayers and fears,
+to carry her with her down the dark valley her feet were treading, to
+save her from trials a nature like hers was so ill-fitted to sustain.
+She looked from her to Mittie, the cold, insensible Mittie, whose large,
+black eyes, serious, but not sad, were riveted upon her through the
+white fringe of the curtain, and another sting sharper still went
+through her heart.
+
+"Oh! my child," she would have said, could her thoughts have found
+utterance, "forget me if you will--mourn not for me, the mother who bore
+you--but be kind, be loving to your little sister, more young and
+helpless than yourself. You are strong and fearless--she is a timid,
+trembling, clinging dove. Oh! be gentle to her, for my sake, gentle as I
+have ever been to you. And you, too, my child, the time will come when
+you will _feel_, when your heart will awake from its sleep--and if you
+only feel for yourself, you will be wretched."
+
+"Why art thou cast down, oh! my soul? and why art thou disquieted within
+me?" were the meditations of the dying woman, when turning from earth,
+she raised her soul on high. "I leave my children in the hands of a
+heavenly Father, as well as a mighty God--in the care of Him who died
+that man might live forevermore."
+
+But there was one present at this scene, who seemed a priestess
+presiding over some mystic rite. It was Miss Thusa. Notwithstanding the
+real kindness of her heart, she felt a strange and intense delight in
+witnessing the last struggle between vitality and death, in gazing on
+the marble, soulless features, from which life had departed, and
+composing the icy limbs for the garniture of the grave. She would have
+averted suffering and death, if she could, from all, but since every son
+and daughter of Adam were doomed to bear them, she wanted the privilege
+of beholding the conflict, and gazing on the ruins. She would sit up
+night after night, regardless of fatigue, to watch by the pillow of
+sickness and pain, and yet she felt an unaccountable sensation of
+disappointment when her cares were crowned with success, and the hour of
+danger was over. She would have climbed mountains, if it were required,
+to carry water to dash on a burning dwelling, yet wished at the same
+time to see the flames grow redder and broader, and more destructive.
+She would have liked to live near the smoke and fire of battle, so that
+she might wander in contemplation among the unburied slain.
+
+The sun went down, but the sun of life still lingered on the verge of
+the horizon. The dimness of twilight mingled with the shadows of death.
+
+"Take me out," cried Helen, struggling to be released from her father's
+arms. "Oh! take me from here. It don't seem mother that I see."
+
+"Hush--hush," said Mr. Gleason, sternly, "you disturb her last moments."
+But Helen, whose feelings were wrought up to a pitch which made
+stillness impossible, and restraint agonizing, darted from between her
+father's knees and rushed into the passage. But how dim and lonely it
+was! How melancholy the cat looked, waiting near the door, with its
+calm, green eyes turned towards the chamber where its gentle mistress
+lay! It rubbed its white, silky sides against Helen, purring solemnly
+and musically, but Helen recollected many a frightful tale of cats,
+related by Miss Thusa, and recoiled from the contact. She longed to
+escape from herself, to escape from a world so dark and gloomy. Her
+mother was going, and why should she stay behind? _Going!_ yet lying so
+still and almost breathless there! She had been told that the angels
+came down and carried away the souls of the good, but she looked in vain
+for the track of their silvery wings. One streak of golden ruddiness
+severed the gray of twilight, but it resembled more a fiery bar, closing
+the gates of heaven, than a radiant opening to the spirit-land. While
+she stood pale and trembling, with her hand on the latch of the door,
+afraid to stay where she was, afraid to return and confront the mystery
+of death, the gate opened, and Arthur Hazleton came up the steps. He had
+been there a short time before, and went away for something which it was
+thought might possibly administer relief. He held out his hand, and
+Helen clung to it as if it had the power of salvation. He read what was
+passing in the mind of the child, and pitied her. He did not try to
+reason with her at that moment, for he saw it would be in vain, but
+drawing her kindly towards him, he told her he was sorry for her. His
+words, like "flaky snow in the day of the sun," melted as they fell and
+sunk into her heart, and she began to weep. He knew that her mother
+could not live long, and wishing to withdraw her from a scene which
+might give a shock from which her nerves would long vibrate, he
+committed her to the care of a neighbor, who took her to her own home.
+Mrs. Gleason died at midnight, while Helen lay in a deep sleep,
+unconscious of the deeper slumbers that wrapped the dead.
+
+And now a terrible trial awaited her. She had never looked on the face
+of death, and she shrunk from the thought with a dread which no language
+can express. When her father, sad and silent, with knit brow and
+quivering lip, led her to the chamber where her mother lay, she resisted
+his guidance, and declared she would never, never go in _there_. It
+would have been well to have yielded to her wild pleadings, her tears
+and cries. It would have been well to have waited till reason was
+stronger and more capable of grappling with terror, before forcing her
+to read the first awful lesson of mortality. But Mr. Gleason thought it
+his duty to require of her this act of filial reverence, an act he would
+have deemed it sacrilegious to omit. He was astonished, grieved, angry
+at her resistance, and in his excitement he used some harsh and bitter
+words.
+
+Finding persuasions and threats in vain, he summoned Miss Thusa, telling
+her he gave into her charge an unnatural, rebellious child, with whose
+strange temper he was then too weak to contend. It was a pity he
+summoned such an assistant, for Miss Thusa thought it impious as well as
+unnatural, and she had bound herself too by a sacred promise, that she
+would not suffer Helen to _fear_ in death the mother whom in life she
+had so dearly loved. Helen, when she looked into those still, commanding
+eyes, felt that her doom was sealed, and that she need struggle no more.
+In despair, rather than submission, she yielded, if it can be called
+yielding, to suffer herself to be dragged into a room, which she never
+entered afterwards without dread.
+
+The first glance at the interior of the chamber, struck a chill through
+her heart. It was so still, so chill, so dim, yet so white. The curtains
+of white muslin fell in long, slumberous folds down to the floor, their
+fringes resting lifelessly on the carpet. The tables and chairs were all
+covered with white linen, and something shrouded in white was stretched
+out on a table in the centre of the room. The sheet which covered it
+flapped a moment as the door opened, and then hung motionless. The
+outline of a human form beneath was visible, and when Miss Thusa lifted
+her in her arms and carried her to the spot, Helen was conscious of an
+awful curiosity growing up within her that was stronger than her
+terrors. Her breath came quick and short, a film came over her eyes, and
+cold drops of sweat stood upon her forehead, yet she would not now have
+left the room without penetrating into the mystery of death. Miss Thusa
+laid her hand upon the sheet and turned it back from the pale and
+ghastly face, on whose brow the mysterious signet of everlasting rest
+was set. Still, immovable, solemn, placid--it lay beneath the gaze, with
+shrouded eye, and cheek like concave marble, and hueless, waxen lips.
+What depth, what grandeur, what duration in that repose! What
+inexpressible sadness, yet what sublime tranquillity! Helen held her
+breath, bending slowly, lower and lower, as if drawn down by a mighty,
+irresistible power, till her cheek almost touched the clay-cold cheek
+over which she leaned. Then Miss Thusa folded back the sheet still
+farther, and exposed the shrouded form, which she had so carefully
+prepared for its last dread espousals. The fragrance of white roses and
+geranium leaves profusely scattered over the body, mingled with the cold
+odor of mortality, and filled the room with a deadly, sickening perfume.
+White roses were placed in the still, white, emaciated hands, and lay
+all wilted on the unbreathing bosom.
+
+All at once a revulsion took place in the breast of Helen. It mocked
+her--that silent, rigid, moveless form. She felt so cold, so deadly cold
+in its presence, it seemed as if all the warmth of life went out within
+her. She began to realize the desolation, the loneliness of the future.
+The cry of orphanage came wailing up from the depths of her heart, and
+bursting from her lips in a loud piercing shriek, she sprang forward and
+fell perfectly insensible on the bosom of the dead.
+
+"I wish I had not _forced_ her to go in," exclaimed the father, as he
+hung with remorseful anguish over the child. "Great Heaven! must I lose
+all I hold dear at once?"
+
+"No, no," cried Miss Thusa, making use of the most powerful restoratives
+as she spoke, "it will not hurt her. She is coming to already. It's a
+lesson she must learn, and the sooner the better. She's got to be
+hardened--and if we don't begin to do it the Lord Almighty will. I
+remember the saying of an old lady, and she was a powerful wise woman,
+that they who refused to look at a corpse, would see their own every
+night in the glass."
+
+"Repeat not such shocking sayings before the child," cried Mr. Gleason.
+"I fear she has heard too many already."
+
+Ah, yes! _she had heard too many_. The warning came too late.
+
+She was restored to animation and--to memory. Her father, now trembling
+for her health, and feeling his affection and tenderness increase in
+consequence of a sensibility so remarkable, forbid every one to allude
+to her mother before her, and kept out of her sight as far as possible
+the mournful paraphernalia of the grave. But a _cold presence_ haunted
+her, and long after the mother was laid in the bosom of earth, it would
+come like a sudden cloud over the sun, chilling the warmth of childhood.
+
+She had never yet been sent to school. Her extreme timidity had induced
+her mother to teach her at home the rudiments of education. She had thus
+been a kind of _amateur_ scholar, studying pictures more than any thing
+else, and never confined to any particular hours or lessons. About six
+months after her mother's death, her father thought it best she should
+be placed under regular instruction, and she was sent with Mittie to the
+village school. If she could only have gone with Louis--Louis, so brave,
+yet tender, so manly, yet so gentle, how much happier she would have
+been! But Louis went to the large academy, where he studied Greek and
+Latin and Conic Sections, &c., where none but boys were admitted. The
+teacher of the village school was a gentleman who had an equal number of
+little boys and girls under his charge. In summer the institution was
+under the jurisdiction of a lady--in autumn and winter the Salic law had
+full sway, and man reigned supreme on the pedagogical throne. It was in
+winter that Helen entered what was to her a new world.
+
+The little, delicate, pensive looking child, clad in deep mourning,
+attracted universal interest. The children gathered round her and
+examined her as they would a wax doll. There was something about her so
+different from themselves, so different from every body else they had
+seen, that they looked upon her as a natural curiosity.
+
+"What big eyes she's got!" cried a little creature, whose eyes were
+scarcely larger than pin-holes, putting her round, fat face close to
+Helen's pale one, and peering under her long lashes.
+
+"Hush!" said another, whose nickname was Cherry-cheeks, so bright and
+ruddy was her bloom. "She's a thousand times prettier than you, you
+little no eyed thing! But what makes her so pale and thin? I wonder--and
+what makes her look so scared?"
+
+"It is because her mother is dead," said an orphan child, taking Helen's
+hand in one of hers, passing the other softly over her smooth hair.
+
+"Mittie has lost her mother too," replied Cherry-cheeks, "and she isn't
+pale nor thin."
+
+"Mittie don't care," exclaimed several voices at once, "only let her
+have the head of the class, and she won't mind what becomes of the rest
+of the world."
+
+A scornful glance over her shoulder was all the notice Mittie deigned to
+take of this acknowledgment of her eagle ambition. Conscious that she
+was the favorite of the teacher, she disdained to cultivate the love and
+good-will of her companions. With a keen, bright intelligence, and
+remarkable retentiveness of memory, she mastered her studies with
+surprising quickness, and distanced all her competitors. Had she been
+amiable, her young classmates would have been proud of the honors she
+acquired, for it is easy to yield the palm to one always in the
+ascendant, but she looked down with contempt on those of inferior
+attainments, and claimed as a right the homage they would have
+spontaneously offered.
+
+Mr. Hightower, or as he was called Master High-tower, was worthy of his
+commanding name, for he was at least six feet and three inches in
+height, and of proportional magnitude. It would have looked more in
+keeping to see him at the head of an embattled host rather than
+exercising dominion over the little rudiments of humanity arranged
+around him. His hair was thick and bushy, and he had a habit of combing
+it with his fingers very suddenly, and making it stand up like military
+plumes all over his head. His features, though heavily moulded, had no
+harsh lines. Their predominant expression was good nature, a kind of
+elephantine docility, which neutralized the awe inspired by his immense
+size. On his inauguration morning, when the children beheld him marching
+slowly through the rows of benches on which they were seated, with a
+long, black ruler under his arm, and enthrone himself behind a tall,
+green-covered desk, they crouched together and trembled as the frogs did
+when King Log plunged in their midst. Though his good-humored
+countenance dispersed their terror, they found he was far from
+possessing the inaction of the wooden monarch, and that no one could
+resist his authority with impunity. He _could_ scold, and then his voice
+thundered and reverberated in the ears of the pale delinquent in such a
+storm-peal as was never heard before--and he _could_ chastise the
+obstinate offender, when reason could not control, most tremendously.
+That long, black ruler--what a wand it was! Whenever he was about to use
+it as an instrument of punishment, he had a peculiar way of handling it,
+which soon taught them to tremble. He would feel the whole length of it
+very slowly and carefully as if it were the edge of a razor--then raise
+it parallel with the eyes, and closing one, looked at it steadily with
+the other. Then lifting it suddenly above his head, he would extend his
+broad, left palm, and give himself a blow that would make them all start
+from their seats. Of all crimes or vices, none excited his indignation
+so much as laziness. It was with him the unpardonable sin. There was
+toleration, forgiveness for every one but the _sluggard_. He said
+Solomon's description of the slothful should be written in letters of
+gold on the walls of the understanding. He explained it to them as a
+metaphor, and made them to understand that the field of the sluggard,
+overgrown with thorns and nettles, was only an image of the neglected
+and uncultivated mind. He gave them Doctor Watts' versification of it to
+commit to memory, and repeated it with them in concert. It is not
+strange that Mittie, who never came to him with a neglected or imperfect
+lesson, should be a great favorite with him, and that he should make her
+the _star pupil_ of the school.
+
+Mittie was not afraid of being eclipsed by Helen, in the new sphere on
+which she had entered. At home the latter was more petted and caressed,
+the object of deeper tenderness, but there she reigned supreme, and the
+pet of the household would find herself nothing more than a cipher. She
+was mistaken. It was impossible to look upon Helen without interest, and
+Master Hightower seemed especially drawn towards her. He bent down till
+he overshadowed her with his loftiness, then smiling at the quick
+withdrawal of her soft, wild, shy glances, he took her up in his lap as
+if she were a plaything, sent for his amusement.
+
+Mittie was not pleased at this, for though she thought herself entirely
+too much of a woman to be treated with such endearing familiarity, she
+could not bear to see such caresses bestowed on another.
+
+"I wonder," she said to herself, with a darkening countenance, "I wonder
+what any one can see in such a little goose as Helen, _to take on_
+about? Little simpleton! she's afraid of her own shadow! Never mind!
+wait awhile! When he finds out how lazy she is, he'll put her on a
+lower, harder seat than his lap."
+
+It was true that Helen soon lost cast with the uncompromising enemy of
+idleness. She had fallen into a habit of reverie, which made it
+impossible for her to fix her mind on a given lesson. Her imagination
+had acquired so much more strength than her other faculties, that she
+could not convert the monarch into the vassal. She would try to memorize
+the page before her, and resolutely set herself to the task, but the
+wing of a snow-bird fluttering by the window, or the buzzing of a fly
+round the warm stove, would distract her attention and call up trains of
+thought as wild as irrelevant. Sometimes she would bend down her head,
+and press both hands upon it, to keep it in an obedient position; but
+all in vain!--her vagrant imagination would wander far away to the
+confines of the spirit-land.
+
+Master Hightower coaxed, reasoned with her, scolded, threatened, did
+every thing but punish. He could not have the heart to apply the black
+ruler to that little delicate hand. He could not give a blow to one who
+looked up in his face with such soft, deprecating, fearful eyes--but he
+grew vexed with the child, and feeling of the edge of his ruler
+half-a-dozen times, declared he did not know what to do with her.
+
+One night Mittie lingered behind the rest, and told him that if he would
+shut up Helen somewhere alone, _in the dark_, he would have no more
+trouble with her; that her father had said that it was the only way to
+make her study. It was true that Mr. Gleason had remarked, in a jesting
+way, when told of Helen's neglect of her lessons, that he must get Mr.
+Hightower to have a dark closet made, and he would have no more trouble;
+but he never intended such a cruelty to be inflicted on his child. This
+Mittie well knew, but as she had no sympathy with her sister's fears,
+she had no compassion for the sufferings they caused. She thought she
+deserved punishment, and felt a malicious pleasure in anticipating its
+infliction.
+
+Master Hightower had no dark closet, but there was room enough in his
+high, dark, capacious desk, for a larger body than the slender, delicate
+Helen. He resolved to act upon Mittie's admirable hint, knowing it would
+not hurt the child to enclose her awhile in a nice, warm, snug place,
+with books and manuscripts for her companions.
+
+Helen heard the threat without alarm, for she believed it uttered in
+sport. The pleasant glance of the eye contradicted the severity of the
+lips. But Master Hightower was anxious to try the experiment, since all
+approved methods had failed, and when the little delinquent blushed and
+hung her head, stammering a faint excuse for her slighted task, he said
+nothing, but slowly lifting up the lid of his desk, he placed his black
+ruler in a perpendicular position, letting the lid rest upon it, forming
+an obtuse angle with the desk. Then he piled the books in the back part,
+leaving a cavity in front, which looked something like a bower in a
+greenwood, for it was lined with baize within and without.
+
+"Come my little lady," said he, taking her up in his arms, "I am going
+to try the effect of a little solitary confinement. They say you are not
+very fond of the _dark_. Well, I am going to keep you here all night, if
+you don't promise to study hereafter."
+
+Helen writhed in his strong grasp, but the worm might as well attempt to
+escape from under the giant's heel, as the child from the powerful hold
+of the master. He laid her down in the green nest, as if she were a
+downy feather, then putting a book between the lid and the desk, to
+admit the fresh air, closed the lid and leaned his heavy elbow upon it.
+The children laughed at the novelty of the punishment, all but the
+orphan child; but when they heard suppressed sobs issuing from the
+desk, they checked their mirth, and tears of sympathy stole down the
+cheeks of the gentle orphan girl. Mittie's black eyes sparkled with
+excitement; she was proud because the master had acted upon her
+suggestion, and inflicted a punishment which, though it involved
+humiliation, gave no real suffering.
+
+Burning with shame, and shivering with apprehension, Helen lay in her
+darkened nook, while the hum of recitation murmured in a dull roaring
+sound around her. It was a cold winter's day and she was very warmly
+clad, so that she soon experienced a glowing warmth in the confined air
+she was breathing. This warmth, so oppressive, and the monotonous sound
+stealing in through the aperture of the desk, caused an irresistible
+drowsiness, and her eye-lids heavy with the weight of tears,
+involuntarily closed. When the master, astonished at the perfect
+stillness with which, after awhile, she endured the restraint, softly
+peeped within, she was lying in a deep sleep, her head pillowed on her
+arm, the tear-drops glittering on her cheeks. Cramped as she was, the
+unconscious grace of childhood lent a charm to her position, and her
+sable dress, contrasting with the pallor of her complexion, appealed for
+compassion and sympathy. The teacher's heart smote him for the coercion
+he had used.
+
+"I will not disturb her now," thought he; "she is sleeping so sweetly. I
+will take her out when school is dismissed. I think she will remember
+this lesson."
+
+Suffering the lid to fall noiselessly on the book, he resumed his tasks,
+which were not closed till the last beams of the wintry sun glimmered on
+the landscape. The days were now very short, and in his enthusiastic
+devotion to his duties, the shades of twilight often gathered around him
+unawares.
+
+It was his custom to dismiss his scholars one by one, beginning with the
+largest, and winding up with the smallest. It was one of his rules that
+they should go directly home, without lingering to play round the door
+of the school-house, and they knew the Mede and Persian character of his
+laws too well to disobey them. When Mittie went out, making a demure
+curtsey at the door, she lingered a little longer than usual, supposing
+he would release Helen from her prison house; but Master Hightower was
+one of the most absent men in the world, and he had forgotten the
+little prisoner in her quiet nest.
+
+"Well," thought Mittie, "I suppose he is going to keep her a while
+longer, and she can go home very well without me. I am going to stay all
+night with Cherry-cheeks, and if Miss Thusa makes a fuss about her
+darling, I shall not be there to hear it."
+
+Master Hightower generally lingered behind his pupils to see that all
+was safe, the fire extinguished in the stove, the windows fastened down,
+and the shutters next to the street closed. After attending deliberately
+to these things, he took down his hat and cloak, drew on his warm woolen
+gloves, went out, and locked the door. It was so late that lights were
+beginning to gleam through the blinds of many a dwelling-house as he
+walked along.
+
+In the meantime, Helen slumbered, unconscious of the solitude in which
+she was plunged. When she awoke, she found herself in utter darkness,
+and in stillness so deep, it was more appalling than the darkness. She
+knew not at first where she was. When she attempted to move, her limbs
+ached from their long constraint, and the arm that supported her head
+was fast asleep. At length, tossing up her right hand, she felt the
+resisting lid, and remembered the punishment she had been enduring. She
+tried to spring out, but fell back several times on her sleeping arm,
+and it was long before she was able to accomplish her release in the
+darkness. She knew not where she was jumping, and fell head first
+against the master's high-backed chair. If she was hurt she did not know
+it, she was so paralyzed by terror. She could not be alone! They would
+not be so cruel as to leave her there the live-long winter's night. They
+were only frightening her! Mittie must he hiding there, waiting for her.
+_She_ was not afraid of the dark.
+
+"Sister," she whispered. "Sister," she murmured, in a louder tone.
+"Where are you? Come and take my hand."
+
+The echo of her own voice sounded fearful, in those silent walls. She
+dared not call again. Her eyes, accustomed to the gloom, began to
+distinguish the outline of objects. She could see where the long rows of
+benches stood, and the windows, all except those next the street, grew
+whiter and whiter, for the ground was covered with snow, and some of it
+had been drifted against the glass. All at once Helen remembered the
+_room_, all dressed in white, and she felt the _cold presence_, which
+had so often congealed her heart. Her dead mother seemed before her, in
+the horror, yet grandeur, of her last repose. Unable to remain passive
+in body, with such travail in her soul, she rushed towards the
+door--finding the way with her groping hands. It was locked. She tried
+the windows--they were fastened. She shrieked--but there was none to
+hear. No! there was no escape--no hope. She must stay there the whole
+long, dark night, if she lived, to see the morning's dawn. With the
+conviction of the hopelessness of her situation, there arose a feeling,
+partly despair and partly resignation. She was very cold, for the fire
+had long been extinguished, and she could not find her cloak to cover
+her.
+
+She was sure she would freeze to death before morning, and Master
+Hightower, when he came to open the school, would see her lying stiff
+and frozen on the floor, and be sorry he had been so cruel. Yes! she
+would freeze, and it was no matter, for no one cared for her; no one
+thought of coming to look for her. Father, brother, Miss Thusa,
+Mittie--all had deserted her. Had her mother lived, _she_ would have
+remembered her little Helen. The young doctor, he who had been so kind
+and good, who had come to her before in the hour of danger, perhaps he
+would pity her, if he knew of her being locked up there in loneliness
+and darkness.
+
+Several times she heard sleighs driving along, the bells ringing merrily
+and loud, and she thought they were going to stop--but they flew swiftly
+by. She felt as the mariner feels on a desert island, when he spies a
+distant sail, and tries in vain to arrest the vessel, that glides on,
+unheeding his signal of distress.
+
+"I will say my prayers," she said, "if I have no bed to lie down on. If
+God ever heard me, He will listen now, for I've nobody but Him to go
+to."
+
+Kneeling down in the darkness, and folding her hands reverently, while
+she lifted them upwards, she softly repeated the prayer her mother had
+taught her, and, for the first time, the spirit of it entered her
+understanding. When she came to the words--"Give us this day our daily
+bread," she paused. "Thou hast given it," she added, "and oh! God, I
+thank Thee." When she repeated--"Forgive my sins," she thought of the
+sin, for which she was suffering so dreadful a punishment. She had
+sinned in disobeying so kind a teacher. She ought to study, instead of
+thinking of far-off things. She did not wonder the master was angry with
+her. It was her own fault, for he had told her what he was going to do
+with her; and if she had not been idle, she might have been at home by a
+warm fire, safe in a father's sheltering arms. For the first time she
+added something original and spontaneous to the ritual she had learned.
+When she had finished the beautiful and sublime doxology, she bowed her
+head still lower, and repeated, in accents trembling with penitence and
+humility--
+
+"Only take care of me to-night, our Father who art in heaven, and I will
+try and sin no more."
+
+Was she indeed left forgotten there, till morning's dawn?
+
+When Master Hightower bent his steps homeward, he was solving a
+peripatetic problem of Euclid. When he arrived at his lodgings, seated
+himself by the blazing fire, and stretched out his massy limbs to meet
+the genial heat, in the luxurious comfort he enjoyed, the cares, the
+bustle, the events of the day were forgotten. A smoking supper made him
+still more luxuriously comfortable, and a deeper oblivion stole over
+him. It was not likely that the fragrant cigar he then lighted as the
+crowning blessing of the evening, would recall to his mind the fireless,
+supperless, comfortless culprit he had left in such "durance vile."
+Combing his hair suddenly with the fingers of his left hand, and leaning
+back in a floating position, he watched the smoke-rings, curling above
+his head, and fell into a reverie on Natural Philosophy. He was
+interrupted by the entrance of Arthur Hazleton, the young doctor.
+
+"I called for the new work on Chemistry, which I lent you some time
+since," said Arthur. "Is it perfectly convenient for you to let me have
+it now?"
+
+"I am very sorry," replied the master, "I left it in the school-room, in
+my desk."
+
+His desk! yes! and he had left something else there too.
+
+"I will go and get it," he cried, starting up, suddenly, his face
+reddening to his temples. "I will get it, and carry it over to you."
+
+"No, give me the key of the school-house, and I will spare you the
+trouble. It is on my homeward way."
+
+"I _must_ go myself," he replied, cloaking himself with wonderful
+celerity, and taking a lantern from the shelf. "You can wait here, till
+I return."
+
+"No such thing," said Arthur. "Why should I wait here, when I might be
+so far on my way home?"
+
+The master saw that it was in vain to conceal from him the incarceration
+of little Helen, an act for which he felt sorry and ashamed; but
+thinking she might still be asleep, and that he might abstract the book
+without the young doctor being aware of her presence, he strode on in
+silence, with a speed almost superhuman.
+
+"You forget what tremendous long limbs you have," exclaimed the young
+doctor, breathless, and laughing, "or you would have more mercy on your
+less gifted brethren."
+
+"Yes--yes--I do forget," cried his excited companion, unconsciously
+betraying his secret, "as that poor little creature knows, to her cost."
+
+"I may as well tell you all about it," he added, answering Arthur's look
+of surprise and curiosity, seen by the lantern's gleam--"since I
+couldn't keep it to myself."
+
+He then related the punishment he had inflicted on Helen, and how he had
+left her, forgotten and alone.
+
+The benevolent heart of the young doctor was not only pained, but
+alarmed by the recital. He feared for the effects of this long
+imprisonment on a child so exquisitely sensitive and timid.
+
+"You don't know the child," said he, hastening his pace, till even the
+master's long strides did not sweep more rapidly over the snowy ground.
+"You have made a fatal experiment. I should not be surprised if you made
+her a maniac or an idiot."
+
+"Heaven forbid!" cried the conscience-stricken teacher, and his huge
+hand trembled on the lock of the door.
+
+"Go in first," said he to Arthur, giving him the lantern. "She will be
+less afraid of you than of me."
+
+Arthur opened the door, and shading the lantern, so as to soften its
+glare, he went in with cautious steps. A little black figure, with
+white hands and white face, was kneeling between the desk and the stove.
+The hands were clasped so tightly, they looked as if they had grown
+together, and the face had a still, marble look--but life, intensely
+burning life was in the large, wild eyes uplifted to his own.
+
+"Helen, my child!" said he, setting the lantern on the stove, and
+stooping till his hair, silvered with the night-frost, touched her
+cheek.
+
+With a faint but thrilling cry, she sprang forward, and threw her arms
+round his neck; and there she clung, sobbing one moment, and laughing
+the next, in an ecstasy of joy and gratitude.
+
+"I thought you'd come, if you knew it," she cried.
+
+This implicit confidence in his protection, touched the young man, and
+he wrapped his arms more closely round her shivering frame.
+
+"How cold you are!" he exclaimed. "Let me fold my cloak about you, and
+put both your hands in mine, they are like pieces of ice."
+
+"Helen, you poor little forlorn lamb," cried a rough, husky voice--and
+the sudden eclipse of a great shadow passed over her. "Helen, I did not
+mean to leave you here--on my soul I did not. I forgot all about you. As
+I hope to be forgiven for my cruelty, it is true. I only meant to keep
+you here till school was dismissed--and I have let you stay till you are
+starved, and frozen, and almost dead."
+
+"It was my fault," replied Helen, in a meek, subdued tone, "but I'll try
+and study better, if you won't shut me up here any more."
+
+"Bless the child!" exclaimed the master, "what a little angel of
+goodness she is. You shall have all the sunshine of the broad earth,
+after this, for all my shutting out one ray from your sweet face. That's
+right--bring her along, doctor, under your cloak, and don't let the
+frost bite her nose--I'll carry the lantern."
+
+Wondering that the father had not sought for his lost child, Arthur
+carried her home, while the master carefully lighted their slippery
+path.
+
+Great was the astonishment of Mr. Gleason, on seeing his little daughter
+brought home in such a state, for he imagined her at the fireside of one
+of her companions, in company with her sister. Her absence had
+consequently created no alarm.
+
+Not all the regret and compunction expressed by Master Hightower could
+quell the rising surge of anger in the father's breast. His brow grew
+dark, and Miss Thusa's darker still.
+
+"To lock up a poor, little motherless thing, such a night as this!"
+muttered she, putting her spectacles, the thermometer of her anger, on
+the top of her head. "To leave her there to perish. Why, the wild beasts
+themselves would be ashamed of such behaviour, let alone a man."
+
+"Don't, Miss Thusa," whispered Helen, "he is sorry as he can be. I was
+bad, too, for I didn't mind him."
+
+"I do not wonder at your displeasure, sir," said the master, turning to
+Mr. Gleason, with dignity; "I deserve to feel it, for my unpardonable
+forgetfulness. But I must say in my defence, I never should have thought
+of such a punishment, had it not been suggested by yourself."
+
+"Suggested by me!" repeated Mr. Gleason, angrily; "I don't know what you
+mean, sir!"
+
+"Your eldest daughter brought me a message, to this effect--that you
+desired me to try solitary confinement in the dark, as the most
+effectual means to bring her to obedience; having no other dark place, I
+shut her in my desk, and never having deposited a living bundle there
+before, I really think I ought to be pardoned for forgetting her."
+
+"Is it possible my daughter carried such a message to you from _me_,"
+cried Mr. Gleason, "I never sent it."
+
+"Just like Mittie," cried Miss Thusa, "she's always doing something to
+spite Helen. I heard her say myself once, that she despised her, because
+everybody took her part. Take her part--sure enough. The Lord Almighty
+knows that a person has to be abused before we _can_ take their part."
+
+"Hush!" exclaimed Mr. Gleason, mortified as this disclosure of Mittie's
+unamiable disposition, and shocked at the instance first made known to
+him. "This is not a proper time for such remarks; I don't wish to hear
+them."
+
+"You ought to hear them, whether you want to or not," continued the
+indomitable spinster, "and I don't see any use in palavering the truth.
+Master Hightower and Mr. Arthur knows it by this time, and there's no
+harm in talking before them. Helen's an uncommon child. She's no more
+like other children, than my fine linen thread is like twisted tow. She
+won't bear hard pulling or rough handling. Mittie isn't good to her
+sister. You ought to have heard Helen's mother talk about it before she
+died. She was afraid of worrying you, she was so tender of your
+feelings. 'But Miss Thusa,' says she, 'the only thing that keeps me from
+being willing to die, is this child;' meaning Helen, to be sure. 'But,
+oh, Miss Thusa,' says she, and her eyes filled up with tears, 'watch
+over her, for my sake, and see that she is gently dealt by.'"
+
+A long, deep sigh burst from the heart of the widower, sacred to the
+memory of his buried wife. Another heaved the ample breast of the master
+for the disclosure of his favorite pupil's unamiable traits.
+
+The young doctor sighed, for the evils he saw by anticipation impending
+over his little favorite's head. He thought of his gentle mother, his
+lovely blind sister, of his sweet, quiet home, and wished that Helen
+could be embosomed in its hallowed shades. Young as he was, he felt a
+kind of fatherly interest in the child--she had been so often thrown
+upon him for sympathy and protection. (His youth may be judged by the
+epithet attached to his name. There were several young physicians in the
+town, but he was universally known as _the_ young doctor.) From the
+first, he was singularly drawn towards the child. He pitied her, for he
+saw she had such deep capacities of suffering--he loved her for her
+dependence and helplessness, her grateful and confiding disposition. He
+wished she were placed in the midst of more genial elements. He feared
+less the unnatural unkindness of Mittie, than the devotion and
+tenderness of Miss Thusa--for the latter fed, as with burning gas, her
+too inflammable imagination.
+
+"The next time I visit home," said the young doctor to himself, "I will
+speak to my mother of this interesting child."
+
+When Mittie was brought face to face with her father; he upbraided her
+sternly for her falsehood, and for making use of his name as a sanction
+for her cruelty.
+
+"You did say so, father!" said she, looking him boldly in the face,
+though the color mounted to her brow. "You did say so--and I can prove
+it."
+
+"You know what I said was uttered in jest," replied the justly incensed
+parent; "that it was never given as a message; that it was said to her,
+not you."
+
+"I didn't give it as a message," cried Mittie, undauntedly; "I said that
+I had heard you say so--and so I did. Ask Master Hightower, if you don't
+believe me."
+
+There was something so insolent in her manner, so defying in her
+countenance, that Mr. Gleason, who was naturally passionate, became so
+exasperated that he lifted his hand with a threatening gesture, but the
+pleading image of his gentle wife rose before him and arrested the
+chastisement.
+
+"I cannot punish the child whose mother lies in the grave," said he, in
+an agitated tone, suffering his arm to fall relaxed by his side. "But
+Mittie, you are making me very unhappy by your misconduct. Tell me why
+you dislike your innocent little sister, and delight in giving her pain,
+when she is meek and gentle as a lamb?"
+
+"Because you all love her better than you do me," she answered, her
+scornful under lip slightly quivering. "Brother Louis don't care for me;
+he always gives every thing he has to Helen. Miss Thusa pets her all the
+day long, just because she listens to her ugly old stories; and you--and
+you, always take her part against me."
+
+"Mittie, don't let me hear you make use of that ridiculous phrase again;
+it means nothing, and has a low, vulgar sound. Come here, my daughter--I
+thought you did not care about our love." He took her by the hand and
+drew her in spite of her resistance, between his knees. Then stroking
+back the black and shining hair from her high, bold brow, he added,
+
+"You are mistaken, Mittie, if you do not think that we love you. I love
+you with a father's tender affection; I have never given you reason to
+doubt it. If I show more love for Helen, it is only because she is
+younger, smaller, and winds herself more closely around me by her
+loving, affectionate ways; she seems to love me better, to love us all
+better. That is the secret, Mittie; it is love; cling to our hearts as
+Helen does, and we will never cast you off."
+
+"I can't do as Helen does, for I'm not like her," said Mittie, tossing
+back her hair with her own peculiar motion, "and I don't want to be like
+her; she's nothing but a coward, though she makes believe half the time,
+to be petted, I know she does."
+
+"Incorrigible child;" cried the father, pushing back his chair, rising
+and walking the room back and forth, with a sad and clouded brow. He had
+many misgivings for the future. The frank, convivial, generous spirit of
+Louis would lead him into temptation, when exposed to the influence of
+seducing companions. Mittie's jealous and unyielding temper would
+embitter the peace of the household; while Helen's morbid sensibility,
+like a keen-edged sword in a thin, frail scabbard, threatened to wear
+away her young life. What firmness--yea, what gentleness--yea, what
+wisdom, what holy Christian principles were requisite for the
+responsibilities resting upon him.
+
+"May God guide and sustain me," he cried, pausing and looking upward.
+
+"May I go, sir?" asked Mittie, who had been watching her father's
+varying countenance, and felt somewhat awed by the deep solemnity and
+sadness that settled upon it. Her manner, if not affectionate was
+respectful, and he dismissed her with a gleaming hope that the clue to
+her heart's labyrinth--that labyrinth which seemed now closed with an
+immovable rock, might yet be discovered.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+    "Oh, wanton malice! deathful sport!
+      Could ye not spare my all?
+    But mark my words, on thy cold heart
+      A fiery doom will fall."
+
+
+The incident recorded in the last chapter, resulted in benefit to two of
+the actors. It gave a spring to the dormant energies of Helen, and a
+check to the vengeance of Mittie.
+
+The winter glided imperceptibly away, and as imperceptibly vernal bloom
+and beauty stole over the face of nature.
+
+In the spring of the year, Miss Thusa always engaged in a very
+interesting process--that is, bleaching the flaxen thread which she had
+been spinning during the winter. She now made a permanent home at Mr.
+Gleason's, and superintended the household concerns, pursuing at the
+same time the occupation to which she had devoted the strength and
+intensity of her womanhood.
+
+There was a beautiful grassy lawn extending from the southern side of
+the building, with a gradual slope towards the sun, whose margin was
+watered by the clearest, bluest, gayest little singing brook in the
+world. This was called Miss Thusa's bleaching ground, and nature seemed
+to have laid it out for her especial use. There was the smooth, fresh,
+green sward, all ready for her to lay her silky brown thread upon, and
+there was the pure water running by, where she could fill her watering
+pot, morning, noon and night, and saturate the fibres exposed to the
+sun's bleaching rays. And there was a thick row of blossoming lilac
+bushes shading the lower windows the whole breadth of the building, in
+which innumerable golden and azure-colored birds made their nests, and
+beguiled the spinster's labors with their melodious carrolings.
+
+Helen delighted in assisting Miss Thusa in watering her thread, and
+watching the gradual change from brown to a pale brown, and then to a
+silver gray, melting away into snowy whiteness, like the bright brown
+locks of youth, fading away into the dim hoariness of age. When weary of
+dipping water from the wimpling brook, she would sit under the lilac
+bushes, and look at Miss Thusa's sybilline figure, moving slowly over
+the grass, swaying the watering-pot up and down in her right hand,
+scattering ten thousand liquid diamonds as she moved. Sometimes the
+rainbows followed her steps, and Helen thought it was a glorious sight.
+
+One day as Helen tripped up and down the velvet sward by her side,
+admiring the silky white skeins spread multitudinously there, Miss
+Thusa, gave an oracular nod, and said she believed that was the last
+watering, that all they needed was one more night's dew, one more
+morning sun, and then they could be twisted in little hanks ready to be
+dispatched in various directions.
+
+"I am proud of that thread," said Miss Thusa, casting back a lingering
+look of affection and pride as she closed the gate. "It is the best I
+ever spun--I don't believe there is a rough place in it from beginning
+to end. It was the best flax I ever had, in the first place. When I
+pulled it out and wound it round the distaff, it looked like ravelled
+silk, it was so smooth and fine. Then there's such a powerful quantity
+of it. Well, it's my winter's work."
+
+Poor Miss Thusa! You had better take one more look on those beautiful,
+silvery rings--for never more will your eyes be gladdened by their
+beauty! There is a worm in your gourd, a canker in your flower, a cloud
+floating darkly over those shining filaments.
+
+It is astonishing how wantonly the spirit of mischief sometimes revels
+in the bosom of childhood! What wild freaks and excursions its
+superabundant energies indulge in! And when mischief is led on by
+malice, it can work wonders in the way of destruction.
+
+It happened that Mittie had a gathering of her school companions in the
+latter part of the day on which we have just entered. Helen, tired of
+their rude sports, walked away to some quiet nook, with the orphan
+child. Mittie played Queen over the rest, in a truly royal style. At
+last, weary of singing and jumping the rope, and singing "Merry
+O'Jenny," they launched into bolder amusements. They ran over the
+flower-beds, leaping from bed to bed, trampling down many a fair, vernal
+bud, and then trying their gymnastics by climbing the fences and the low
+trees. A white railing divided Miss Thusa's bleaching ground, with its
+winding rill, from the garden, and as they peeped at the white thread
+shining on the grass, thinking the flaming sword of Miss Thusa's anger
+guarded that enclosure, Mittie suddenly exclaimed:
+
+"Let us jump over and dance among Miss Thusa's thread. It will be better
+than all the rest."
+
+"No, no," cried several, drawing back, "it would be wrong. And I'm
+afraid of her. I wouldn't make her mad for all the world."
+
+"I'll leave the gate open, and she'll think the calves have broken in,"
+cried Mittie, emboldened by the absence of her father, and feeling
+safety in numbers. "Cowards," repeated she, seeing they still drew back.
+"Cowards!--just like Helen. I despise to see any one afraid of any
+thing. I hate old Madam Thusa, and every thing that belongs to her."
+
+Vaulting over the fence, for there would have been no amusement in going
+through the gate, Mittie led the way to the forbidden ground, and it was
+not long before her companions, yielding to the influence of her bold,
+adventurous spirit, followed. Disdaining to cross the rustic bridge that
+spanned the brook, they took off their shoes and waded over its pebbly
+bed. They knew Miss Thusa's room was on the opposite side of the house,
+and while running round it, they had heard the hum of her busy wheel, so
+they did not fear her watching eye.
+
+"Now," said Mittie, catching one of the skeins with her nimble feet, and
+tossing it in the air; "who will play cat's cradle with me?"
+
+The idea of playing cat's cradle with the toes, for they had not resumed
+their shoes and stockings, was so original and laughable, it was
+received with acclamation, and wild with excitement they rushed in the
+midst of Miss Thusa's treasures--and such a twist and snarl as they made
+was never seen before. They tied more Gordian knots than a hundred
+Alexanders could sever, made more tangles than Princess Graciosa in the
+fairy tale could untie.
+
+"What shall we do with it now?" they cried, when the novelty of the
+occupation wore off, and conscience began to give them a few remorseful
+twinges.
+
+"Roll it up in a ball and throw it in the brook," said Mittie, "she'll
+think some of her witches have carried it off. I'll pay her for it," she
+added, with a scornful laugh, "if she finds us out and makes a fuss. It
+can't be worth more than a dollar--and I would give twice as much as
+that any time to spite the old thing."
+
+So they wound up the dirty, tangled, ruined thread into a great ball,
+and plunged it into the stream that had so often laved the whitening
+filaments. Had Miss Thusa seen it sinking into the blue, sunny water,
+she would have felt as the mariner does when the corpse of a loved
+companion is let down into the burying wave.
+
+In a few moments the gate was shut, the green slope smiled in answer to
+the mellow smile of the setting sun, the yellow birds frightened away by
+the noisy groups, flew back to their nests, among the fragrant lilacs,
+and the stream gurgled as calmly as if no costly wreck lay within its
+bosom.
+
+When the last beam of the sinking sun glanced upon her distaff, turning
+the fibres to golden filaments, Miss Thusa paused, and the crank gave a
+sudden, upward jerk, as if rejoiced at the coming rest. Putting her
+wheel carefully in its accustomed corner, she descended the stairs, and
+bent her steps to the bleaching ground. She met Helen at the gate, who
+remembered the trysting hour.
+
+"Bless the child," cried Miss Thusa, with a benevolent relaxation of her
+harsh features, "she never forgets any thing that's to do for another.
+Never mind getting the watering-pot now. There'll be a plenty of dew
+falling."
+
+Taking Helen by the hand she crossed the rustic bridge; but as she
+approached the green, she slackened her pace and drew her spectacles
+over her eyes. Then taking them off and rubbing them with her silk
+handkerchief, she put them on again and stood still, stooping forward,
+and gazing like one bewildered.
+
+"Where is the thread, Miss Thusa?" exclaimed Helen, running before her,
+and springing on the slope. "When did you take it away?"
+
+"Take it away!" cried she. "Take it away! I never _did_ take it away.
+But _somebody_ has taken it--stolen it, carried it off, every skein of
+it--not a piece left the length of my finger, my finger nail. The vile
+thieves!--all my winter's labor--six long months' work--dead and buried!
+for all me--"
+
+"Poor Miss Thusa!" said Helen, in a pitying accent. She was afraid to
+say more--there was something so awe-inspiring in the mingled wrath and
+grief of Miss Thusa's countenance.
+
+"What's the matter?" cried a spirited voice. Louis appeared on the
+bridge, swinging his hat in the air, his short, thick curls waving in
+the breeze.
+
+"Somebody's stolen all Miss Thusa's thread," exclaimed Helen, running to
+meet him, "her nice thread, that was just white enough to put away. Only
+think, Louis, how wicked!"
+
+"Oh! Miss Thusa, it can't be stolen," said Louis, coming to the spot
+where she stood, the image of indignant despair; "somebody has hidden it
+to tease you. I'll help you to find it."
+
+This seemed so natural a supposition, that Miss Thusa's iron features
+relaxed a little, and she glanced round the enclosure, more in
+condescension than hope, surveying the boughs of the lilacs, drooping
+with their weight of purple blossoms, and peering at the gossamer's web.
+
+Louis, in the meantime, turned towards the stream, now partially
+enveloped in the dusky shade of twilight, but there was one spot
+sparkling with the rosy light of sunset, and resting snugly 'mid the
+pebbles at the bottom, he spied a large, dingy ball.
+
+"Ah! what's this big toad-stool, rising up in the water?" said he,
+seizing a pole that lay under the bridge, and sticking the end in the
+ball. "Why this looks as if it had been thread, Miss Thusa, but I don't
+know what you will call it now?"
+
+Miss Thusa snatched the dripping ball from the pole that bent beneath
+its weight, turned it round several times, bringing it nearer and nearer
+to her eyes at each revolution, then raised it above her head, as if
+about to dash it on the ground; but suddenly changing her resolution,
+she tightened her grasp, and strode into the path leading to the house.
+
+"I know all about it now," she cried, "I heard the children romping and
+trampling round the house like a drove of wild colts, with Mittie at
+their head; it is she that has done it, and if I don't punish her, it
+will be because the Lord Almighty does it for me."
+
+Even Louis could scarcely keep up with her rapid strides. He trembled
+for the consequences of her anger, just as it was, and followed close to
+see if Mittie, undaunted as she was, did not shrivel in her gaze.
+
+Mittie was seated in a window, busily studying, or pretending to study,
+not even turning her head, though Miss Thusa's steps resounded as if she
+were shod with iron.
+
+"Look round, Miss, if you please, and tell me if you know any thing of
+this," cried Miss Thusa, laying her left hand on her shoulder, and
+bringing the ball so close to her face that her nose came in contact
+with it.
+
+Mittie jerked away from the hand laid upon her with no velvet pressure,
+without opening her lips, but the guilty blood rising to her face spoke
+eloquently; though she had a kind of Procrustes bed of her own,
+according to which she stretched or curtailed the truth, she had not the
+hardihood to tell an unmitigated falsehood, in the presence of her
+brother, too, and in the light of his truth-beaming eye.
+
+"You are always accusing _me_ of every thing," said she, at length. "I
+didn't do it----all;" the last syllable was uttered in a low, indistinct
+tone.
+
+"You are a mean coward," cried the spinster, hurling the ball across the
+room with such force that it rebounded against the wall. "You're a
+coward with all your audacity, and do tricks you are ashamed to
+acknowledge. You've spoiled the honest earnings of the whole winter, and
+destroyed the beautifullest suit of thread that ever was spun by mortal
+woman."
+
+"I can pay you for all I spoiled and more too," said Mittie, sullenly.
+
+"Pay me," repeated Miss Thusa, while the scorching fire of her eye
+slowly went out, leaving an expression of profound sorrow. "Can you pay
+me for a value you can't even dream of? Can you pay me for the lonely
+thoughts that twisted themselves up with that thread, day after day, and
+night after night, because they had nothing else to take hold of? Can
+you pay me for these grooves in my fingers' ends, made by the flax as I
+kept drawing it through, till it often turned red with my blood? No,
+no, that thread was as dear to me as my own heart strings--for they were
+twined all about it; it was like something living to me--and I loved it
+in the same way as I do little Helen. I shall never, never spin any
+more."
+
+"You will spin more merrily than ever," cried Louis, soothingly, "you
+see if you don't, Miss Thusa."
+
+Miss Thusa shook her head, and though she almost suffocated herself in
+the effort to repress them, tears actually forced themselves into her
+eyes, and splashed on her cheeks. Seating herself in a low chair, she
+took up the corner of her apron to hide what she considered a shame and
+disgrace, when Helen glided near and wiped away the drops with her own
+handkerchief.
+
+"Bless you darling," cried the subdued spinster--"and you will be
+blessed. There's no malice, nor hard-heartedness in _you_. _You_ never
+turned your foot upon a worm. But as for her," continued she, pointing
+prophetically at Mittie, and fixing upon her her grave and gloomy
+eyes--"there's no blessing in store. She don't feel now, but if she
+lives to womanhood she _will_. The heart of stone will turn to flesh
+then, and every fibre it has got will learn how to quiver, as I've seen
+twisted wire do, when strong fingers pull it--_I know it will_. She will
+shed tears one of these days, and no one will wipe them off, as this
+little angel has done for me. I've done, now. I didn't mean to say what
+I did, but the Lord put it in my head, and I've spoken according to my
+gift."
+
+Mittie ran out of the room before the conclusion of the speech, unable
+to stand the moveless glance, that seemed to burn like heated metal into
+her conscience.
+
+"Come, Miss Thusa," said Louis, amiably, desirous of turning her
+thoughts into a new channel, and pitying while he blamed his offending
+sister, for the humiliation he knew she must endure--"come and tell us a
+story, while you are inspired. It is so long since I have heard one! Let
+it be something new and exciting."
+
+"I don't believe I could tell you one to save my life, now," replied
+Miss Thusa, her countenance lighting up with a gleam of
+satisfaction--"at least I couldn't act it out."
+
+"Never mind the acting, Miss Thusa, provided we hear the tale. Let it be
+a _powerful_ one."
+
+"Don't tell the _worm-eaten traveler_," whispered Helen. "I never want
+to hear that again."
+
+Miss Thusa see-sawed a moment in her low chair, to give a kind of
+balance to her imagination, and then began:
+
+"Once there was a maiden, who lived in a forest, a deep wild forest, in
+which there wasn't so much as the sign of a path, and nobody but she
+could find their way in or out. How this was, I don't know, but it was
+astonishing how many people got lost in those woods, where she rambled
+about as easy as if somebody was carrying a torch before her. Perhaps
+the fairies helped her--perhaps the evil spirits--I rather think the
+last, for though she was fair to look upon, her heart was as hard as the
+nether mill-stone."
+
+Miss Thusa caught a glimpse of Mittie, on the porch, through the open
+doors, and she raised her voice, as she proceeded:
+
+"One night, when the moon was shining large and clear, she was wandering
+through the forest, all alone, when she heard a little, tender voice
+behind her, and turning round, she saw a young child, with its hair all
+loose and wet, as 'twere, calling after her.
+
+"'I've lost my way,' it cried--'pray help me to find a path in the
+greenwood.'
+
+"'Find it by the moonlight,' answered the maiden, 'it shines for you, as
+well as for me.'
+
+"'But I'm little,' cried the child, beginning to weep, 'and my feet are
+all blistered with running. Take me up in your arms a little while, for
+you are strong, and the Saviour will give you a golden bed in Heaven to
+lie down on.'
+
+"'I want no golden bed. I had rather sleep on down than gold,' answered
+the maid, and she mocked the child, and went on, putting her hands to
+her ears, to keep out the cries of the little one, that came through the
+thick trees, with a mighty piteous sound--the hard-hearted creature!"
+
+"How cruel!" said Helen, "I hope she got lost herself."
+
+"Don't interrupt, Helen," said Louis, whose eyes were kindling with
+excitement. "You may be sure she had some punishment."
+
+"Yes, that she did," continued the narrator, "and I tell you it was
+worse than being lost, bad as that is. By-and-by she came out of the
+forest, into a smooth road, and a horseman galloped to meet her, that
+would have scared anybody else in the world but her. Not that he was so
+ugly, but he was dressed all in black, and he had such a powerful head
+of black hair, that hung all about him like a cloak, and mixed up with
+the horse's flowing mane, and that was black too, and so was his horse,
+and so were his eyes, but his forehead was as white as snow, and his
+cheeks were fair and ruddy. He rode right up to the young maiden, and
+reaching down, swung his arm round her, and put her up before him on the
+saddle, and away they rode, as swift as a weaver's shuttle. I don't
+believe a horse ever went so fast before. Every little stone his hoofs
+struck, would blaze up, just for a second, making stars all along the
+road. As they flew on, his long black hair got twisted all around her,
+and every time the wind blew, it grew tighter and tighter, till she
+could scarcely breathe, and she prayed him to stop, and unwind his long
+black hair, before it reached her throat, for as sure as she was alive
+then, it would strangle her.
+
+"'You have hands as well as I,' said he, with a mocking laugh, 'unwind
+it yourself, fair maiden.'
+
+"Then she remembered what she had said to the poor little lost child,
+and she cried out as the child did, when she left it alone in the
+forest. All the time the long locks of hair seemed taking root in her
+heart, and drawing it every step they went.
+
+"'Now,' said her companion, reining up his black horse, 'I'll release
+you.'
+
+"And unsheathing a sharp dagger, he cut the hair through and through, so
+that part of it fell on the ground in a black shower. Then giving her a
+swing, he let her fall by the way-side, and rode on hurraing by the
+light of the moon."
+
+Miss Thusa paused to take breath, and wiped her spectacles, as if she
+had been reading with them all the time she had been talking.
+
+"Is that all?" asked Helen.
+
+"No, indeed, that cannot be the end," said Louis. "Go on Miss Thusa. The
+black knight ought to be scourged for leaving her there on the ground."
+
+"There she lay," resumed Miss Thusa, "moaning and bewailing, for her
+heart's blood was oozing out through every wound his dagger had made,
+for I told you his locks had taken root in her heart, and he cut the
+cords when he slashed about among his own long, black hair.
+
+"'I'm dying,' said the maiden. 'Oh, what would I give now for that
+golden bed of the Saviour, the little child promised me.'
+
+"Just then she heard the patter of little feet among the fallen leaves,
+and looking up, there was the child, sure enough, right by her side, and
+there was something bright and shining all around its head. How it found
+its way out of the woods, the Lord only knows. Well, the child didn't
+bear one bit of malice, for it was a holy child, and kneeling down, it
+took a crystal vial from its bosom, and poured balm on the bleeding
+heart of the maiden, and healed every wound.
+
+"'You are a holy child,' said the maiden, rising up, and taking the
+child in her arms, and pressing her close to her bosom. 'I know it by
+the light around your head. I'll love all little children for your sake,
+and nevermore mock the cry of sorrow or of want.'
+
+"So they went away together into the deep woods, and one could see the
+moon shining on them, every now and then, through the trees, and it was
+a lovely sight."
+
+There was silence for a few moments after Miss Thusa finished her
+legend, for never had she related any thing so impressively.
+
+"Oh, Miss Thusa," cried Helen, "that is the prettiest story I ever heard
+you relate. I am glad the child was not lost, and I am glad that the
+maiden did not die, but was sorry for what she had done."
+
+"Do you make up your tales yourself, Miss Thusa," asked Louis, "or do
+you remember them? I cannot imagine where they all come from."
+
+"Some are the memories of my childhood;" replied she, "and some the
+inventions of my own brain; and some are a little of one and a little of
+the other; and some are the living truth itself. I don't always know
+what I am going to say myself, when I begin, but speak as the spirit
+moves. This shows that it is a gift--praise the Lord."
+
+"Well, Miss Thusa, the spirit moves you to say that the little child
+forgave the cruel maiden, and poured balm upon her bleeding heart,"
+said Louis, with one of his own winning smiles.
+
+"And you think an old woman should forgive likewise!" cried Miss Thusa,
+looking as benignantly as she _could_ look upon the boy. "You are right,
+you are right, but her heart don't bleed yet--_not yet_."
+
+Mittie, believing herself unseen, had listened to the tale with an
+interest that chained her to the spot where she stood. She unconsciously
+identified herself with the cruel maiden, and in after years she
+remembered the long, sweeping locks of the knight, and the maiden's
+bleeding heart.
+
+
+
+
+PART SECOND.
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+                "Thus with the year
+    Seasons return, but not to me returns
+    Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn,
+    Or signs of vernal bloom, or summer's rose,
+    Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine.
+    But clouds instead, and ever-during dark
+    Surround me."
+
+    _Milton._
+
+    "Thou, to whom the world unknown,
+    With all its shadowy shapes is shown,
+    Who see'st appalled, th' unreal scene,
+    While Fancy lifts the veil between,
+      Ah, Fear! ah, frantic Fear!
+      I see, I see thee near!"
+
+    _Collins._
+
+
+Six years gliding away, have converted the boy of twelve into the
+collegian of eighteen years, the girl of nine into the boarding-school
+Miss of fifteen, and the child of seven into the little maiden of
+thirteen.
+
+Let us give a hasty glance at the most prominent events of these six
+gliding years, and then let the development of character that has gone
+on during the period, be shown by the events which follow.
+
+The young doctor did not forget to speak to his mother of the
+interesting child, whom destiny seemed to have made a protege of his
+own. In consequence, a pressing invitation was sent by Mrs. Hazleton,
+the widowed mother of Arthur, to the young Helen, who, from that time
+became an annual guest at the Parsonage--such was the name of the home
+of the young doctor. It was about a day's ride from Mr. Gleason's, and
+situated in one of the loveliest portions of the lovely valley of the
+Connecticut. Helen soon ceased to consider herself a visitor, and to
+look upon the Parsonage as another and dearer home; for though she
+dearly loved her father and brother, she found a far lovelier and more
+lovable sister in the sweet, blind Alice, than the heart-repelling
+Mittie.
+
+Miss Thusa, whose feelings towards Mittie had been in a kind of volcanic
+state, since the destruction of her thread, always on the verge of an
+eruption, determined, during the first absence of her favorite Helen to
+resume her itinerant mode of existence; so, sending her wheel in
+advance, the herald cry of "Miss Thusa's coming," once more resounded
+through the neighborhood.
+
+Louis entered college at a very early age, leaving a dreary blank in the
+household, which his joyous spirit had filled with sunshine.
+
+It is not strange that under such circumstances the lonely widower
+should think of a successor to his lost wife, for Mittie needed a
+mother's restraining influence and guardian care. Nor is it strange,
+with her indomitable self-will, she should resist the authority of a
+stranger. When her father announced his intention of bringing home a
+lady to preside over his establishment, claiming for her all filial
+respect and obedience, she flew into a violent passion, and declared she
+would never own her as a mother, never address her as such--that she
+would leave home and never return, before she would submit to the
+government of a stranger. Unwilling to expose the woman who had
+consented to be his wife to scenes of strife and unhappiness, Mr.
+Gleason, as the only alternative, resolved to send his daughter to a
+boarding-school, before his mansion received its new mistress. Mittie
+exulted in this arrangement, for a boarding-school was the Ultima Thule
+of her ambition, and she boasted to her classmates that her father was
+afraid of her, and that he dared not marry while she was at home.
+Amiable boast of a child!--especially a daughter.
+
+Mr. Gleason was anxious to recall Helen, and place her at once under her
+new mother's guardianship, but Mrs. Hazleton pleaded, and the blind
+Alice pleaded with the mute eloquence of her sightless eyes, and the
+young doctor pleaded; and Helen, after being summoned to welcome her new
+parent, and share in the wedding festivities, was permitted to return to
+her beloved Parsonage.
+
+It was a beautiful spot--so rural, so retired, so far from the public
+road, so removed from noise and dust. It had such a serene, religious
+aspect, the traveler looking up the long avenue of trees, with a
+gradually ascending glance, to the unambitious, gray-walled mansion,
+situated at its termination, thought it must be one of the sweetest
+havens of rest that God ever provided for life's weary pilgrim.
+
+And so it was--and so Helen thought, when wandering with the blind Alice
+through the sequestered fields and wild groves surrounding the dwelling,
+or seated within the low, neat, white-washed walls, and listening to the
+mild, maternal accents of Arthur Hazleton's mother.
+
+It was a mild summer evening. The windows were all open, and the smell
+of the roses that peeped in through the casements, made sweeter as well
+as brighter by the dews of night, perfumed the whole apartment.
+Sometimes the rising breeze would scatter a shower of rose-leaves on the
+carpet, casting many a one on the heads of the young girls seated at a
+table, on either side of Mrs. Hazleton. Helen heeded not the petals that
+nestled in the hazel waves of her short, brown hair, but Alice, whose
+touch and hearing were made marvelously acute by her blindness, could
+have counted every rose-leaf that covered her fair, blonde ringlets.
+
+They were both engaged in the same occupation--knitting purses--and no
+one could have told by the quick, graceful motions of the fingers of
+Alice, that they moved without one guiding ray from those beautiful blue
+eyes, that seemed to follow all their intricacies. Neither could any one
+have known, by gazing on those beautiful eyes, that the _soul_ did not
+look forth from their azure depths. There was a soft dreaminess floating
+over the opaque orbs, like the dissolving mist of a summer's morning,
+that appeared but the cloudiness of thought. Alice was uncommonly
+lovely. Her complexion had a kind of rosy fairness, indicative of the
+pure under-current which, on every sudden emotion, flowed in bright
+waves to her cheeks. This was a family peculiarity, and one which Helen
+remarked in the young doctor the first time she beheld him. Her profuse
+flaxen hair fell shadingly over her brow, and an acute observer might
+have detected her blindness by her suffering the fair locks to remain
+till a breeze swept them aside. They did not _veil her vision_. Mrs.
+Hazleton, with pardonable maternal vanity, loved to dress her beautiful
+blind child in a manner decorating to her loveliness. A simple white
+frock in summer, ornamented with a plain blue ribbon, constituted her
+usual holiday attire. She could select herself the color she best liked,
+by passing her hand over the ribbon, and though her garments and Helen's
+were of the same size, she could tell them apart, from the slightest
+touch.
+
+Helen was less exquisitely fair, less beautiful than Alice, but hers was
+an eye of sunbeams and shadows, that gave wonderful expression to her
+whole face. Some one has observed that "every face is either a history
+or a prophecy." Child as Helen was, hers was _both_. You could read in
+those large, pensive, hazel eyes, a history of past sufferings and
+trials. You could read, too, in their deep, appealing, loving
+expression, a prophecy of all a woman's heart is capable of feeling or
+enduring.
+
+"I never saw such eyes in the head of a child," was a common remark upon
+Helen. "There is something wildly, hauntingly interesting in them; one
+loves and pities her at the first glance."
+
+Helen was too pale and thin to be a beautiful child, but with such a
+pair of haunting eyes, soft, silky hair of the same hazel hue, hanging
+in short curls just below her ears, and a mouth of rare and winning
+sweetness, she was sure to be remembered when no longer present. She
+looked several years older than Alice, though of the same age, for the
+calm features of the blind child had never known the agitations of
+terror or the vague apprehensions of unknown evil. Every one said "Helen
+would be pretty," and felt that she was interesting.
+
+Now, while knitting her purse, and sliding the silver beads along the
+blue silken thread, she would look up with an eager, listening
+countenance, as if her thoughts were gone forth to meet some one, who
+delayed their coming.
+
+Alice, too, was listening with an expecting, waiting heart--one could
+tell it by the fluttering of the blue ribbon that encircled her neck.
+
+"He will not come to-night, mother," said she, with a sigh. "It is never
+so late as this, when he rides in through the gate."
+
+"I fear some accident has happened," cried Helen, "he has a very bad
+bridge to cross, and the stream is deep below."
+
+"How much that sounds like Helen," exclaimed Mrs Hazleton, "so fearful
+and full of misgivings! I shall not give him up before ten o'clock. If
+you like, you can both sit up and bear me company--if not, you may leave
+me to watch alone."
+
+They both eagerly exclaimed that they would far rather sit up with her,
+and then they were sure they could finish their purses, and have them
+ready as gifts for the brother and friend so anxiously looked for.
+Though the distance that separated them from him was short, and his
+visits frequent, they were ever counted as holidays of the heart, as
+eras from which all past events were dated--and on which all future ones
+were dependent.
+
+"When Arthur was here, we did so and so." "When Arthur comes, we will do
+this and that." A stranger would have thought Arthur the angel of the
+Parsonage, and that his coming was the advent of peace, and joy, and
+love. It was ever thus that listening ears and longing eyes and waiting
+hearts watched his approach. He was an only son and brother, and seldom
+indeed is it that Heaven vouchsafes such a blessing to a household, as a
+son and brother like Arthur Hazleton.
+
+"He's coming," cried Alice, jumping up and clapping her hands, "I hear
+his horse galloping towards the gate. I know the sound of its hoofs from
+all others."
+
+This was true. The unerring ear of the blind girl never deceived her.
+Arthur was indeed coming. The gate opened. His rapid footstep was heard
+passing through the avenue, bounding up the steps, and there they were
+arrested by the welcoming trio, all ready to greet him. It was a happy
+moment for Arthur when wrapped in that triune embrace, for Helen, timid
+as she was, had learned to look upon him as a dear, elder brother, whose
+cares and affection were divided between her and the sightless Alice;
+and for whom she felt a love equal to that which she cherished for
+Louis, mingled with a reverence and admiration that bordered upon
+worship.
+
+"My dear mother," said he, when they had escorted him into the
+sitting-room, and in spite of his resistance made him take the best and
+pleasantest seat in the room, "my dear mother, I hope I have not kept
+you up too late; I would have been here sooner, but you know I am a
+servant of the public, and my time is not my own."
+
+"Oh! brother, I am so glad to see you!" cried Alice, pressing her
+glowing cheek against his hand. It was thus she always said; and she did
+see him with her spirit's eyes, beautiful as a son of the morning, and
+radiant as the god of day. She passed her hands softly over his dark,
+brown locks, over the contour of his cheeks and chin with a kind of
+lingering, mesmerizing touch, which seemed to delight in tracing the
+lineaments of symmetry and grace.
+
+"Brother," she said, "your cheeks are reddening--I know it by their
+warmth. What makes the blood come up to the cheeks when the heart is
+glad? Helen's are red, too, for I know it by the throbbings of her
+heart."
+
+"Helen has one pale cheek and one red one," answered Arthur, passing his
+arm around her and drawing her towards him. "If she were a little
+older," added he, bending down and kissing the pale cheek, "we might
+bring a rose to this, and then they would be blooming twins."
+
+The rose did bloom most beautifully at his touch, and a smile of
+affectionate delight gilded the child's pensive lips.
+
+"Alice, my dear, what have you and Helen been doing since I was here?
+You are always planning something to surprise me--something to make me
+glad and grateful."
+
+"We have been knitting a purse for you, brother, each of us; and mother
+had just finished sewing on the tassel when you came. Tell me which is
+mine, and which is Helen's," cried she, taking them both from the table
+and mingling the hues of cerulean and emerald, the glitter of the golden
+globules which ornamented the one, and the silver beads which starred
+the other, in her hand.
+
+"The green and gold must be Helen's--the silver and blue yours, Alice.
+Am I right?"
+
+"No. But will you care if it is exactly the reverse. Helen chose the
+blue because it was my favorite color, and she thought you would prize
+it most. Green was left for me, and then, you know, I was obliged to mix
+it with gold."
+
+"But why was green left for you? and why were you _obliged_ to mix it
+with gold, instead of silver?" asked he, interested in tracing the
+origin of her associations.
+
+"I like but two colors," she replied, thoughtfully; "blue and green, the
+blue of the heavens, the green of the earth. It seems that gold is like
+sunshine, and the golden beads must resemble sunbeams on the green
+grass. Silver is like moonlight, and Helen's purse must make you think
+of moonbeams, shining from the bright blue sky."
+
+"Why, my sweet Alice, where did the poetry of your thoughts come from? I
+know not how such charming associations are born, unless of sight. Oh!
+there must be an inner light, purer and clearer than outward vision
+knows, in which the great source of light bathes the spirit of the
+blind."
+
+He paused a moment, with his eyes intently fixed on the soft, hazy orbs,
+which gave back no answering rays--then added, in a gayer tone--
+
+"And so I am the owner of these beautiful purses. How proud and happy I
+ought to be! It will be long, I fear, before I shall fill them with
+gold--and even if I could, it would be a shame to soil them with the
+yellow dust of temptation. I will cherish them both. Yours, Alice, will
+always remind me of all that is beautiful on earth, woven of this
+brilliant green and gold. And yours, Helen, blue as the sky, of all that
+is holy in Heaven.
+
+"But while I am thus receiving precious gifts," he added, "I must not
+forget that I am the bearer of some also. My saddle-bags are not
+entirely filled with vials and pills. Here, mother, is a bunch of
+thread, sent by Miss Thusa, white as the fleece of the unshorn lamb. She
+says she spun it expressly for you, because of your kindness to Helen."
+
+"I know by experience the beauty and value of Miss Thusa's thread," said
+Mrs Hazleton, admiring the beautiful white hanks, which her son
+unrolled; "ever since I knew Helen I have had a yearly supply, such as
+no other spinster ever made. How shall I make an adequate return?"
+
+"There is a nicely bound book in our library, mother, which would please
+her beyond expression--a history of all the celebrated murders in the
+country, within the last ten years. Here, Helen, are some keepsakes for
+you and Alice, from your mother."
+
+"How kind, how good," exclaimed Helen, "and how beautiful! A work-box
+for me, and a toilet-case for Alice. How nice--and convenient. Surely
+we ought to love her. Mittie cannot help loving her when she comes. I'm
+sure she cannot."
+
+"Your father is going for Mittie soon," said Arthur. "He bids me tell
+you that you must be ready to accompany him, and remain in her stead for
+at least three years."
+
+A cloud obscured the sunshine of Helen's countenance. The prospect which
+Mittie had hailed with exultation, Helen looked forward to with dismay.
+To be sent to a distant school, among a community of strangers, was to
+her timid, shrinking spirit, an ordeal of fire. To be separated from
+Alice, Arthur, and Mrs. Hazleton, seemed like the sentence of death to
+her loving, clinging heart.
+
+"We must all learn self-reliance, Helen," said Arthur, "we must all pass
+through the discipline of life. The time will soon come when you will
+assume woman's duties, and it is well that you go forth awhile to gather
+strength and wisdom, to meet and fulfil them. You need something more
+bracing and invigorating than the atmosphere of love that surrounds you
+here."
+
+Helen always trembled when Arthur looked very grave from the fear that
+he was displeased with her. When speaking earnestly, he had a remarkable
+seriousness of expression, implying that he meant all that he uttered.
+When Arthur Hazleton was first introduced to the reader, he was only
+eighteen; and consequently was now about twenty-four years of age. There
+was a blending of firmness and gentleness, of serene gravity and beaming
+cheerfulness in his character and countenance, which even in early
+boyhood had given him an ascendency over his young companions. There was
+a searching power in the glance of his grave, dark eye, from which one
+might shrink, were it not often softened by an expression of even
+womanly sweetness harmonizing with the gentle smile of his lips. He very
+seldom spoke of his feelings, but the rich, mantling color that ever and
+anon came glowingly to his cheek, indicated a depth of sensibility he
+was unwilling words should reveal. Left his own master at a very early
+age, his _will_ had become strong and invincible. As he almost always
+willed what was right, his mother seldom sought to bend it, and she was
+the only being in the world whose authority he acknowledged, and to
+whom he was willing to sacrifice his pride by submission.
+
+An incident which occurred the evening after his arrival, may illustrate
+his firmness and his power.
+
+It was a lovely summer afternoon, and Arthur rambled with Helen and
+Alice amid the charming groves and wild glens of his native place. His
+local attachments were exceedingly strong, for they were cherished by
+dear and sacred associations. There was a history attached to every rock
+and tree and waterfall, making it more beautiful and interesting than
+all others.
+
+"Here, Alice," he would say, "look at this magnificent tree. Our father
+used to sit under its shade and sketch the outline of his sermons. Here,
+in God's own temple, he worshiped, and his pure thoughts mingled with
+the incense that arose from the bosom of nature."
+
+Then Alice would clasp her fair arms round the tree, and laying her soft
+check against the rough bark, consecrate it to the memory of the father,
+who had died ere she beheld the light. Alas! she never had beheld it;
+but ere the light had beamed on the sightless azure of her eyes.
+
+"Helen, do you see that beetling rock, half covered with lichens and
+moss, hanging over the brawling stream? It was there I used to recline,
+when a little boy, shaded by that gnarled and fantastic looking tree,
+with book in hand, but studying most of all from the great book of
+nature. Oh! I love that spot. If I ever live to be an old man, though I
+may have wandered to the wide world's end, I want to come back and throw
+myself once more on the shelving rock where I made my boyhood's bed."
+
+While he was speaking, he led Alice and Helen on to the very verge of
+the rock, and looked down on the waterfall, tumbling below. Alice stood
+calm and still, holding, with perfect confidence, her brother's hand,
+but Helen recoiled and shuddered, and her cheek turned visibly paler.
+
+"We are close to the edge, brother--I know it by the sound of your
+voice," said Alice. "It seems to sink down and mingle with the roar of
+the water-fall."
+
+"Do you not fear, Alice?" asked her brother, drawing her still a little
+nearer.
+
+"Oh, no," she answered, with a radiant smile. "How can I fear, when I
+feel your hand sustaining me? I know, you would not lead me into danger.
+You would never let me fall."
+
+"Do you hear her?" asked he, looking reproachfully at Helen. "Oh, thou
+of little faith. When will you learn to confide, with the undoubting
+trust of this helpless blind girl? Do you believe that _I_ would
+willingly expose you to danger or suffering?"
+
+He withdrew his hand as he spoke, and Helen believing him seriously
+displeased, turned away to hide the tears that swelled into her eyes. In
+the meantime, Arthur led Alice along the edge of the rock to a little,
+natural bower beyond, which Alice called her bower, and where she and
+Helen had made a bed of moss, and adorned it with shells. Helen stood a
+moment alone on the rock, feeling as desolate as if she were the
+inhabitant of a desert island. She thought Arthur unkind, and the
+beautiful, embowering trees, gurgling waters, and sweet, singing birds,
+lost their charms to her. Slowly turning her steps homeward, yet not
+willing to enter the presence of Mrs. Hazleton without her companions,
+she lingered in the garden, making a bouquet, which she intended to give
+as a peace-offering to Arthur, when he returned. She did not enter the
+house till nearly dark, when she was surprised by seeing Arthur alone.
+
+"Where is Alice?" said he.
+
+"Alice!" repeated she, "I left her in the woods with you."
+
+"Yes! but I left her there also, in the arbor of moss, supposing you
+would soon return to her."
+
+"Left her alone!" cried Helen, wondering why Arthur, who seemed to
+idolize his lovely, blind sister, could have been so careless of her
+safety.
+
+"Alice is not afraid to be alone, Helen, she knows that God is with her.
+But it will soon be night, and she must not remain in the dark, damp
+woods much longer. You will go back and accompany her home, Helen,
+before the night-dew falls?"
+
+Helen's heart died within her at the mere thought of threading alone a
+path so densely shaded, and of passing over that beetling rock, beneath
+the gnarled, fantastic looking tree. It would be so dark before she
+returned! She went to the window, and looked out, then turned towards
+him with such a timid, wistful look, it was astonishing how he could
+have resisted the mute appeal.
+
+"Make haste, Helen," said he, gently, "it will be dark if you do not."
+
+"Will you not go with me?" she at length summoned boldness to ask.
+
+"Are you afraid to go, Helen?"
+
+She felt the dark power of his eye to her inmost soul. Death itself
+seemed preferable to his displeasure.
+
+"I _am_ afraid," she answered, "but I will go since you _will_ it."
+
+"I do wish it," he replied, "but I leave it to your own will to
+accomplish it."
+
+Helen could not believe that he really intended she should go alone,
+when _he_ had left his sister behind. She was sure he would follow and
+overtake her before she reached the narrow path she so much dreaded to
+traverse. She went on very rapidly, looking back to see if he were not
+behind, listening to hear if her name were not called by his well-known
+voice. But she heard not his footsteps, nor the sound of his voice. She
+heard nothing but the wind sighing through the trees, or the notes of
+some solitary bird, seeking its nest among the branches.
+
+"Arthur is not kind, to-day," thought she. "I wonder what has changed
+him so. It was not my place to go after Alice, when he left her himself
+in the woods. What right has he to command me so? And how foolish I am
+to obey him, as if he were my master and lord!"
+
+She was at first very angry with Arthur, and anger always gives one
+strength and power. Any excited passion does. She ran on, almost
+forgetting her fears, and the shadows lightened up as she met them face
+to face. Then she thought of Alice alone in the woods--so blind and
+helpless. Perhaps she would be frightened at the darkening solitude, and
+try to find her path homeward, on the edge of that slippery, beetling
+rock. With no hand to sustain, no eye to guide, how could she help
+falling into the watery chasm below? In her fears for Alice, she forgot
+her own imaginary danger, and flew on, sending her voice before her,
+bearing on its trembling tones the sweet name of Alice.
+
+She reached the rock, and paused under the tree that hung so darkly over
+it. The waterfall sounded so much louder than when she stood there last,
+she was sure the waters had accumulated, and were threatening to dash
+themselves above. They had an angry, turbulent roar, and keeping close
+in a line with the tree, she hurried on to the silver bower Alice so
+much loved, and which she had seen her enter, clinging to the hand of
+Arthur. Helen, had to lift up the hanging boughs and sweeping vines at
+the entrance of the arbor, and cold shivers of terror ran through her
+frame, for no voice responded to hers, though she had made the silence
+all the way vocal with the name of Alice.
+
+"If she is not here, she is dead," she cried, "and I will lie down and
+die, too; for I cannot return without her."
+
+Creeping slowly in, with suppressed breath and trembling limbs, she
+discovered something white lying on the bed of moss, so still and white,
+that it might have been mistaken in the dimness for a snow-drift, were
+it not a midsummer eve. All the old superstitions implanted in her
+infant mind by Miss Thusa's terrific legends, seized upon her
+imagination. Any thing white and still, reminded her of the
+never-to-be-forgotten moment when she gazed upon her dead mother, and
+sunk overpowered by the terror and majesty of death. If it was Alice
+lying there, she must be dead, and how could she approach nearer and
+encounter that _cold presence_ which had once communicated a death-chill
+to her young life? Then the thought of Alice's death was fraught with
+such anguish, it carried her out of herself. The grief of Arthur, the
+agony of his mother; it was too terrible to think of. Springing into the
+arbor, she ran up to the white object, and kneeling down, beheld the
+fair, clustering ringlets and rosy cheek of Alice dimly defined through
+the growing shadows. She inhaled her warm breath as she stooped over
+her, and knew it was sleep, not death, that bound her to the spot. As
+she came in contact with life, warm, breathing vitality, an
+instantaneous conviction of the folly, the preposterousness of her own
+fears, came over her. Alice calmly and quietly had fallen asleep as
+night came on, not knowing it by its darkness, but its stillness. Helen
+felt the presence of invisible angels round the slumbering Alice, and
+her fears melted away. Putting her arms softly round her, and laying
+her cheek to hers, she called upon her to wake and return, for the
+woods were getting dark with night.
+
+"Oh! how I love to sleep on this soft, mossy bed," cried Alice, sitting
+up and passing her fingers over her eyes. "I fell asleep on brother's
+arm, with the waterfall singing in my ears. Where is he, Helen? I do not
+hear his voice."
+
+"He is at home, and sent me after you, Alice," replied Helen. "How could
+he leave you alone?" she could not help adding.
+
+"I am never afraid to be left alone," said Alice, "and he knows it. But
+I am not alone. I hear some one breathing in the grotto besides you,
+Helen. I heard it when I first waked."
+
+Helen started and grasped the hand of Alice closer and closer in her
+own. Looking wildly round the grotto, she beheld a dark figure crouching
+in the corner, half-hidden by the shrubbery, and uttering a low scream,
+was about to fly, when a hoarse laugh arrested her.
+
+"It's only me," cried a rough, good-natured voice. "It's nobody but old
+Becky. Young master told me to stay and watch Miss Alice, while she
+slept, till somebody came after her. He knew old Becky wouldn't let
+anybody harm the child--not she."
+
+Old Becky, as she called herself, was a poor, harmless, half-witted
+woman, who roamed about the neighborhood, subsisting on charity, whom
+everybody knew and cared for. She was remarkably fond of children, and
+had always shown great attachment for the blind girl. She had the
+fidelity and sagacity of a dog, and would never leave any thing confided
+to her care. She would do any thing in the world for young Master Arthur
+as she styled him, or Mrs. Hazleton, for at the Parsonage she always
+found a welcome, and it seemed to her the gate of Heaven. During the
+life of Mr. Hazleton, she invariably attended public worship, and
+listened to his sermons with the most reverential attention, though she
+understood but a small portion of them--and when he died, her chief
+lamentation was that he could not preach at her funeral. If young master
+were a minister, that would be next best, but as he was only a doctor,
+she consoled herself by asking him for medicine whenever he visited
+home, whether she needed it or not, and Arthur never failed to make up
+a quantity of bread pills and starch powders to gratify poor, harmless
+Becky.
+
+"Walk before us, please, Becky," cried Helen with a lightened heart, and
+Becky marched on, proud to be of service, looking back every moment to
+see if they were safe.
+
+When they reached home, the candles were burning brightly in the
+sitting-room, and the rose trees at the windows shone with a kind of
+golden lustre in their beams. Helen suffered Becky to accompany Alice
+into the house, knowing it would be to her a source of pride and
+pleasure, and seating herself on the steps, tried to school herself so
+as to appear with composure, and not allow Arthur to perceive how deeply
+his apparent unkindness had wounded her feelings. While she thus sat,
+breathing on the palm of her hand, and pressing it against her moist
+eyelids to absorb the welling tears, Arthur himself crossed the yard and
+came rapidly up the steps.
+
+"What are you doing here, my sister?" said he, sitting down by her and
+drawing away the hand from her showery eyes. Never had he spoken so
+gently, so kindly. Helen could not answer. She only bowed her head upon
+her lap.
+
+"My dear Helen," said he, in that grave, earnest tone which always had
+the effect of command, "raise your head and listen to me. I have wounded
+my own feelings that I might give you a needed lesson, and prove to
+yourself that you have moral courage sufficient to triumph over physical
+and mental weakness. You have thought me cruel. Perhaps I have been
+so--but I have given present pain for your future joy and good. I
+followed you, though you knew it not, ready to ward off every real
+danger from your path. Oh, Helen, I grieve for the sufferings
+constitutional sensitiveness and inculcated fear occasion you, but I
+rejoice when I see you struggling with yourself, and triumphing through
+the strength of an exerted will."
+
+"I deserve no credit for going," sobbed Helen. "I could not help it."
+
+"But no one _forced_ you, Helen."
+
+"When you say I _will_ do any thing, I feel a force acting upon me as
+strong as iron."
+
+"It is the force of your own inborn sense of right called into action by
+me. You knew it was not right to leave our blind Alice in the dark
+woods alone. If I were cruel enough to desert her, and refuse to seek
+her, her claim on your kindness and care was not the less commanding.
+You could not have laid your head upon your pillow, or commended
+yourself to the guardianship of Providence, thinking of Alice in the
+lonely woods, damp with the dews of night. Besides, you knew in your
+secret heart I could not send you on a dangerous mission. Oh! Helen,
+would that I could inspire you, not so much with implicit confidence in
+me, as in that Mighty guardian power that is ever around and about you,
+from whose presence you cannot flee, and in whose protection you are
+forever safe."
+
+"Forgive me," cried Helen, in a subdued, humble tone. "I have done you
+great wrong in thinking you cruel. I wonder you have not given me up
+long ago, when I am so weak and foolish and distrustful. I thought I was
+growing brave and strong--but the very first trial proved that I am
+still the same, and so it will ever be. Neither the example of Alice,
+nor the counsels of your mother, nor your own efforts, do me any good. I
+shall always be unworthy of your cares."
+
+"Nay, Helen, you do yourself great injustice. You have shown a heroism
+this very night in which you may glory. Though you have encountered no
+real danger, you battled with an imaginary host, which no man could
+number, and the victory was as honorable to yourself as any that crowns
+the hero's brow with laurels. Mark me, Helen, the time will come when
+you will smile at all that now fills you with apprehension, in the
+development of your future, nobler self."
+
+Helen looked up and smiled through her tears.
+
+"Oh! if I dared to promise," said she, "I would pledge my word never to
+distrust you, never to be so foolish and weak again. But I think, I
+believe that I never will."
+
+"Do not promise, my dear Helen, for you know not your own strength. But,
+remember, that without _faith_ you will grope in darkness through the
+world--faith in your friends--faith in your God--and I will add--faith
+in yourself. From the time I first saw you a little, terror-stricken
+child, to the present moment, I have sought only your happiness and
+good--and yet forgetting all the past, you distrusted my motives even
+now, and your heart rose up against me. From the first dawn of your
+being to this sweet, star-lighted moment, God has been to you a tender,
+watchful parent, tenderer than any earthly parent, kinder than any
+earthly friend--and yet you fear to trust yourself to His providence, to
+remain with Him who fills immensity with His presence. You have no faith
+in yourself, though there is a legion of angels, nestling, with folded
+wings in that young heart, ready to fly forth at your bidding, and
+fulfil their celestial mission. Come, Helen," added he, rising, and
+lifting her at the same time from her lowly seat, "let us go in--but
+tell me first that I am forgiven."
+
+"Forgiven!" cried she, fervently. "How can I ever thank you, ever be
+sufficiently grateful for your goodness?"
+
+"By treasuring up my words, and remembering them when you are far away.
+I have influence over you now, because you are so very young, and know
+so little of the world, but a few years hence it will be very different.
+You may think of me then as a severe mentor, a cold, unfeeling sage, and
+wonder at the gentleness with which you bore my reproofs, and the
+docility with which you yielded to my will."
+
+"I shall always think of you as the best and truest friend I ever had in
+the world," cried Helen, enthusiastically, as they entered the
+sitting-room, where Mrs. Hazleton and Alice awaited them.
+
+"Because he sent you out into the woods alone?" said Mrs. Hazleton,
+smiling, "young despot that he is."
+
+"Yes," replied Helen, "for I feel so much better, stronger and happier
+for having gone. Then, if possible, I love Alice more than ever."
+
+"How do you account for that, Helen?" asked Arthur.
+
+"I don't know," she answered, "unless it is I went through a trial for
+her sake."
+
+"Helen is a metaphysician," said the young doctor. "She could not have
+given a better solution."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+    "And can it be those heavenly eyes
+    Blue as the blue of starry skies,
+    Those eyes so clear, so soft so bright,
+    Have never seen God's blessed light?"
+
+
+Helen returned to her father's, to prepare for her departure to the
+school, which Mittie was about to leave. Arthur had long resolved to
+place Alice in an Institution for the blind, and as there was a
+celebrated one in the same city to which Helen was bound, he requested
+Mr. Gleason to be her guardian on the journey, and suffer her to be the
+companion of Helen. This arrangement filled the two young girls with
+rapture, and reconciled them to the prospect of leaving home, and of
+being cast among strangers in a strange city.
+
+Ever since Alice was old enough to feel the misfortune that rested so
+darkly upon her, and had heard of those glorious institutions, where the
+children of night feel the beams of science and benevolence penetrate
+the closed bars of vision, and receive their illumination in the inner
+temple of the spirit, she had expressed an earnest wish to be sent where
+she could enjoy such advantages.
+
+"Oh!" she would repeat a thousand times, unconscious of the pain she
+inflicted on her mother; "oh! if I could only go where the blind are
+taught every thing, how happy should I be!"
+
+It is seldom that the widow of a country minister is left with more than
+the means of subsistence. Mrs. Hazleton was no exception to the general
+rule. But Arthur treasured up every word his blind sister uttered, and
+resolved to appropriate to this sacred purpose the first fruits of his
+profession. It was for this he had anticipated the years of manhood, and
+commenced the practice of medicine, under the auspices of his father's
+venerable friend, Doctor Sennar, at an age when most young men are
+preparing themselves for their public career. Success far transcending
+his most sanguine hopes having crowned his youthful exertions, he was
+now enabled to purchase the Parsonage, and present it as a filial
+offering to his mother, and also to defray the expenses of his sister's
+education.
+
+Alice had never before visited the home of Helen, and it was an
+interesting sight to see with what watchful care and protecting
+tenderness Helen guided and guarded her steps. Louis, who was at home
+also passing his summer holidays, beheld for the first time the lovely
+blind girl of whom Helen had so often spoken and written.
+
+He was now a man in appearance, of noble stature, and most prepossessing
+countenance. Helen was enthusiastically fond of her brother, and had
+said to Alice, with unconscious repetition--
+
+"Oh! how I wish you could see Louis. He is so handsome and is so good.
+He has such a brave rejoicing look. Somehow or other, I always feel safe
+in his presence."
+
+"Is he handsomer than Arthur?" Alice would ask.
+
+"No, not handsomer--but then he's so different, one cannot compare them.
+Arthur is so much older, you know."
+
+"Arthur doesn't look old, does he?"
+
+"No, not old--but he has such an air of authority sometimes, which gives
+you such an impression of power, that I would fear him, did he not all
+at once appear so gentle and so kind. Louis makes you love him all the
+time, and you never think of his being displeased."
+
+Still, while Helen dwelt on her brother's praise with fond and fluent
+tongue, she felt without being able to describe her feelings, that he
+had lost something of his original beauty. The breath of the world had
+passed over the mind and dimmed its purity. His was the joyous, reckless
+spirit that gave life to the convivial board; and temptations, which a
+colder temperament might have resisted, often held him in ignoble
+vassalage. Now inhaling the hallowed atmosphere of home, all the pure
+influences of his boyhood resumed their empire over his heart--and he
+wondered that he could ever have mingled with the grosser elements of
+society.
+
+"Blind!" repeated he to himself, while gazing on the calm, angelic
+countenance of Alice, so beautiful in its repose. "Is it possible that a
+creature so fair and bright, dwells in the darkness of perpetual
+midnight? Can no electric ray pierce the cloud that is folded over her
+vision? Is there no power in science to remove the dark fillet that
+binds those celestial eyes, and pour in upon them the light of a
+new-born day?"
+
+While he thus gazed on the unseeing face, so near him that perhaps she
+might have had a vague consciousness of the intensity, the warmth of the
+gaze, Helen approached, and taking the hand of Alice, passed it softly
+over the features of her brother, as well as his profuse and clustering
+hair.
+
+"Alice has eyes in her fingers, Louis--I want her to _see_ you and tell
+me if I have been a true painter."
+
+Louis felt the blood mounting to his temples, as the soft hand of Alice
+analyzed the outline of his face, and lingered in his hair. It seemed to
+him a cherub was fluttering its wings against his cheek, diffusing a
+peace and balminess that no language could describe.
+
+Alice, who had yielded involuntarily to the movement of Helen, drew her
+hand blushingly away.
+
+"I cannot imagine how any one can see without touching," said Alice,
+"how they can take in an image into the soul, by looking at it far off.
+You tell me the eyes feel no pleasure when gazing at any thing--that it
+is the mind only which perceives. But my fingers thrill with delight
+when I touch any thing that pleases, long afterwards."
+
+Louis longed to ask her if she felt the vibration then, but he dared not
+do it. He, in general so reckless in words, experienced a restraining
+influence he had never felt before. She seemed so set apart, so holy, it
+would be sacrilegious to address her with levity. He felt a sudden
+desire to be an oculist, that he might devote himself to the task of
+restoring to her the blessing of sight. Then he thought how delightful
+it would be to lead such a sweet creature through the world, to be eyes
+to her darkness, strength to her helplessness--the sun of her clouded
+universe. Louis had a natural chivalry about him that invested weakness,
+not only with a peculiar charm, but with a sacred right to his
+protection. With the quick, bounding impulses of eighteen, his spirit
+sprang forward to meet every new attraction. Here was one so novel, so
+pure, that his soul seemed purified from the soil of temptation, while
+he involuntarily surrendered himself to it, as Miss Thusa's thread grew
+white under the bleaching rays of a vernal sun.
+
+Miss Thusa! yes, Miss Thusa came to welcome home her young protege,
+unchanged even in dress. It is probable she had had several new garments
+since she related to Helen the history of the worm-eaten traveler, but
+they were all of the same gray color, relieved by the black silk
+neckerchief and white tamboured muslin cap--and under the cap there was
+the same opaque fold of white paper, carefully placed on the top of the
+head.
+
+Alice had a great curiosity to _see_ Miss Thusa, as she expressed it,
+and hear some of her wild legends. When she traced the lineaments, of
+her majestic profile, and her finger suddenly rose on the lofty beak of
+her nose, she laughed outright. Alice did not often laugh aloud, but
+when she did, her laugh was the most joyous, ringing, childish burst of
+silvery music that ever gushed from the fountain of youth. It was
+impossible not to echo it. Helen feared that Miss Thusa would be
+offended, especially as Louis joined merrily in the chorus--and she
+looked at Alice as if her glance had power to check her. But she did not
+know all the windings of Miss Thusa's heart. Any one like Alice, marked
+by the Almighty, by some peculiar misfortune, was an object not only of
+tenderness, but of reverence in her eyes. The blasted tree, the blighted
+flower, the smitten lamb--all touched by the finger of God, were sacred
+things--and so were blindness and deafness--and any personal calamity.
+It was strange, but it was only in the shadows of existence she felt the
+presence of the Deity.
+
+"Never mind her laughing," said she, in answer to the apprehensive
+glance of Helen, "it don't hurt me. It does me good to hear her. It
+sounds like a singing bird in a cage; and, poor thing, she's shut in a
+dark cage for life."
+
+"No, not for life, Miss Thusa," exclaimed Louis; "I intend to study
+optics till I have mastered the whole length and breadth of the science,
+on purpose to unseal those eyes of blue."
+
+Alice turned round so suddenly, and following the sound of his voice,
+fixed upon him so eagerly those blue eyes, the effect was startling.
+
+"Will you do so?" she cried, "can you do so? oh! do not say it, unless
+you mean it. But I know it is impossible," she added in a subdued tone,
+"for I was _born blind_. God made me so, and He has made me very happy
+too. I sometimes think it would be beautiful to see, but it is beautiful
+to feel. As brother says, there is an inner-light which keeps us from
+being _all_ dark."
+
+Louis regretted the impulse which urged him to utter his secret wishes.
+He resolved to be more guarded in future, but he was already in
+imagination a student in Germany, under some celebrated optician, making
+discoveries so amazing that he would undoubtedly give a new name to the
+age in which he lived.
+
+When night came on they gathered round Miss Thusa, entreating her for a
+farewell legend, not a gloomy one, not one which would give Alice a sad,
+dark impression, but something that would come to her memory like a ray
+of light.
+
+"You must let me have my own way," said she, putting her spectacles on
+the top of her head, and looking around her with remarkable benignity.
+"If the spirit moves me one way, I cannot go another. But I will try my
+best, for may-be it's the last time some of you will ever listen to old
+Thusa's tales. She's never felt just right since they tangled up her
+heart-strings with that whitened thread. Oh! that was a vile, mean
+trick!"
+
+"Forget and forgive, Miss Thusa," cried Louis; "I dare say Mittie has
+repented of it in dust and ashes."
+
+"I have forgiven, long ago," resumed Miss Thusa, "but as for
+_forgetting_, that is out of the question. Ever since then, when the
+bleaching time comes, it keeps me perfectly miserable till it is over.
+I've never had any thread equal to it, for I'm afraid to let it stay
+long enough to be as powerful white as it used to be. Well, well, let it
+rest. You want me to tell you a story, do you?"
+
+Miss Thusa had an auditory assembled round her that might have animated
+a spirit less open to inspiration than hers. There was Mr. and Mrs.
+Gleason, the latter a fine, dignified-looking lady, and the young
+doctor, with his countenance of grave sweetness, and Louis, with an
+expression of resolute credulity, and Helen and Alice, with their arms
+interlaced, and the locks of their hair mingling like the tendrils of
+two forest vines. And what perhaps gave a glow to her spirit, deeper
+than the presence of all these, Mittie, her arch enemy, was _not there_,
+to mock her with her deriding black eyes.
+
+"You've talked to me so much about not telling you any terrible things,"
+said she, with a troubled look, "that you've made me like a candle under
+a bushel, instead of a light upon a hill-top. I've never told such
+stories since, as I used to tell when the first Mrs. Gleason was alive,
+and I spun in the nursery all the evening, and little Helen was the only
+one to listen to what I had to say. There was something in the child's
+eyes that kept me going, for they grew brighter and larger every word I
+said."
+
+Helen looked up, and met the glance of the young doctor, riveted upon
+her with so much pity and earnestness, she looked down again with a
+blending of gratitude and shame. She well knew that, notwithstanding her
+reason now taught her the folly and madness of her superstitious
+terrors, the impressions of her early childhood were burnt into her
+memory and never could be entirely obliterated.
+
+"I remember a story about a blind child, which I heard myself, when a
+little girl," said Miss Thusa, "and if I should live to the age of
+Methuselah, I never should forget it. I don't know why it stayed with me
+so long, for it has nothing terrific in it, but it comes to me many a
+time when I'm not thinking of it, like an old tune, heard long, long
+ago.
+
+"Once there was a woman who had an only child, a daughter, whose name
+was Lily. The woman prayed at the birth of the child that it might be
+the most beautiful creature that ever the sun shone upon, and she
+prayed, too, that it might be good, but because she prayed for beauty
+before goodness, it was accounted to her as a sin. The child grew, and
+as long as it was a babe in the arms, they never knew that the eyes,
+which gave so much light to others, took none back again. The mother
+prayed again, that her child might see, no matter how ugly she might
+become, no matter how dull and dim her eyes, let them but have the gift
+of sight. But Lily walked in a cloud, from the cradle to the time when
+the love-locks began to curl round her forehead, and her cheeks would
+flush up when the young men told her she was beautiful. When it was
+sunlight, her mother watched her every step she took, for fear she would
+get into danger, but she never thought of watching her by night, for
+she said the _angels took care of her then_. Lily had a little bed of
+her own, right by the window, for she told her mother she loved to feel
+the moon shining on her eye-lids, making a sort of faintish glimmer, as
+it were.
+
+"One night she lay down in the moonshine, and fell asleep, and her
+mother looked upon her for a long time, thinking how beautiful she was,
+and what a pity the young men could not take her to be a wife, she had
+such a loving heart, and seemed made so much for love. At last she fell
+asleep herself, dreaming of Lily, and did not wake till past midnight.
+Her first thought was of Lily, and she leaned on her elbow, and looked
+at the little bed, with its white counterpane, that glittered like snow
+in the moonshine. But Lily was not there, and the window was wide open.
+The woman jumped up in fright, and ran to the window and looked out, but
+she could see nothing but the trees and the woods. I wouldn't have been
+in her place for the gold of Solomon, for she was all alone, and there
+was no one living within a mile of her house. It was a wild, lonesome
+place, on a hill-side, and you could hear the roaring of water, all down
+at the bottom of the hill. Even in the day-time it was mighty dangerous
+walking among the torrents, let alone the night.
+
+"Well, the woman lifted up her voice, and wept for her blind child, but
+there was none but God to hear--and she went out into the night, calling
+after Lily every step she took, but her own voice came back to her, not
+Lily's. She went on and on, and when she got to a narrow path, leading
+along to a great waterfall, she stopped to lay her hand on her heart, to
+keep it from jumping out of her body. There was a tall, blasted pine,
+that had fallen over that waterfall, making a sort of slippery bridge to
+pass over. What should she see, right in the middle of the blasted pine
+tree, as it lay over the roaring stream, but Lily, all in white, walking
+as if she had a thousand pair of eyes, instead of none, or at least none
+that did her any good. The mother dared not say a word, any more than if
+she were dumb, so she stood like a dead woman, that is, as still,
+looking at her blind daughter, fluttering like a bird with white wings
+over the black abyss.
+
+"But what was her astonishment to behold a figure approaching Lily,
+from the opposite side of the stream, all clothed in white, too, with
+long, fair hair, parted from its brow, and large shining wings on its
+shoulders. The face was that of a beautiful youth, and he had eyes as
+soft and glorious as the moon itself, though they looked dark for all
+that.
+
+"'I come, my beloved,' cried Lily, stretching out her arms over the
+water. 'I see thee--I know thee. There is no darkness now. Oh, how
+beautiful thou art! The beams of thy shining wings touch my eyelids, and
+little silver arrows come darting in, on every side. Take me over this
+narrow bridge, lest my feet slide, and I fall into the roaring water.'
+
+"'I cannot take thee over the bridge,' replied the youth, 'but when thou
+hast crossed it, I will bear thee on my wings to a land where there is
+no blindness or darkness, not even a shadow, beautiful as these shadows
+are, all round us now. Walk in faith, and look not below. Press on, and
+fear no evil.'
+
+"'Oh! come back, my daughter!' shrieked the poor mother, rousing up from
+the trance of fear--'come back, my Lily, and leave me not alone. Come
+back, my poor blind child.'
+
+"Lily turned back a moment, and looked at her mother, who could see her,
+just as plain as day. Such a look! It was just as if a film had fallen
+from off her eyes, and a soul had come into them. They were live eyes,
+and they had been cold and dead before. They smiled with her smiling
+lips. They had never smiled before, and the mother trembled at their
+strange intelligence. She dared not call her back any more, but knelt
+right down on the ground where she was, and held her breath, as one does
+when they think a spirit is passing by.
+
+"'I can't come back, mother,' said Lily, just as she reached the bank,
+where the angel was waiting for her, for it was nobody else but an
+angel, as one might know by its wings. 'You will come to me by-and-by--I
+can see you now, mother. There's no more night for me.'
+
+"Then the angel covered her, as it were, with his wings--or rather, they
+seemed to have one pair of wings between them, and they began to rise
+above the earth, slow at first, and easy, just as you've seen the clouds
+roll up, after a shower. Then they went up faster and higher, till they
+didn't look bigger than two stars, shining up overhead.
+
+"The next day a traveler was passing along the banks of the stream,
+below the great waterfall, and he found the body of the beautiful blind
+girl, lying among the water-lilies there. Her name was Lily, you know.
+She looked as white and sweet as they did, and there never was such a
+smile seen, as there was upon her pale lips. He took her up, and curried
+her to the nearest house, which happened to be her own mother's. Then
+the mother knew that Lily had been drowned the night before, and that
+she had seen her going up to Heaven, with the twin angel, created for
+her and with her, at the beginning of creation. She felt happy, for she
+knew Lily was no longer blind."
+
+If we could give an adequate idea of Miss Thusa's manner, so solemn and
+impressive, of the tones of her voice, monotonous and slightly nasal,
+yet full of intensity, and, above all, of the expression of her
+foreboding eye, while in the act of narration, it would be easy to
+account for the effect which she produced. Helen and Alice were bathed
+in tears before the conclusion, and a deepening seriousness rested on
+the countenances of all her auditors.
+
+"You _will_ be sad and gloomy, Miss Thusa," cried Louis; "see what you
+have done; you should not have chosen such a subject."
+
+"I don't think it is sad," exclaimed Alice, raising her head and shaking
+her ringlets over her eyes to veil her tears. "I did not weep for
+sorrow, but it is so touching. Oh! I could envy Lily, when the beautiful
+angel came and bore her away on his shining wings."
+
+"I think with Alice," said the young doctor, "that it is far from being
+a gloomy tale, and the impression it leaves is salutary. The young girl,
+walking by faith, over the narrow bridge that spans the abyss of death,
+the waiting angel, and upward flight, are glorious emblems of the
+spirit's transit and sublime ascent. We are all blind, and wander in
+darkness here, but when we look back, like Lily, on the confines of the
+spirit-land, we shall see with an unclouded vision."
+
+Helen turned to him with a smile that was radiant, beaming through her
+tears. It seemed to her, at that moment, that all her vague terrors, all
+her misgivings for the future, her self-distrust and her disquietude
+melted away and vanished into air.
+
+Miss Thusa, pleased with the comment of the young doctor, was trying to
+keep down a rising swell of pride, and look easy and unconcerned, when
+Louis, taking a newspaper from his pocket, began to unfold it.
+
+"Here is a paper, Miss Thusa," said he, handing it to her as he spoke,
+"which I put aside on purpose for you. It contains an account of a
+celebrated murder, which occupies several columns. It is enough to make
+one's hair stand on end, 'like quills upon the fretted porcupine.' I am
+sure it will lift the paper crown from your head."
+
+Miss Thusa took the paper graciously, though she called him a "saucy
+boy," and adjusting her spectacles on the lofty bridge of her nose, she
+held the paper at an immense distance, and began to read.
+
+At first, they amused themselves observing the excited glance of Miss
+Thusa, moving rapidly from left to right, her head following it with a
+quick, jerking motion; but as the article was long, they lost sight of
+her, in the interest of conversation. All at once, she started up with a
+sudden exclamation, that galvanized Helen, and brought Louis to his
+feet.
+
+"What does this mean?" she cried, pointing with her finger to a
+paragraph in the paper, written in conspicuous characters. "Read it, for
+I do believe that my glasses are deceiving me."
+
+Louis read aloud, in a clear, emphatic voice, the following
+advertisement:
+
+"If Lemuel Murrey, or his sister Arathusa, are still living, if he, or
+in case of his death, she will come immediately to the town of ----, and
+call at office No. 24, information will be given of great interest and
+importance. Country editors will please insert this paragraph, several
+times, and send us their account."
+
+"Why, Miss Thusa," cried Louis, flourishing the paper over his head,
+"somebody must have left you a fortune. Only hear--_of great
+importance_! Let me be the first to congratulate you," bowing almost to
+her feet.
+
+"Nonsense!" exclaimed Miss Thusa, "I have not a relation, that I know
+of, this side of the Atlantic, and if I had, they would not be worth a
+cent in the world. It must be an imposition," and she looked sharply at
+Louis through her lowered glasses.
+
+"Upon my honor, Miss Thusa, I know nothing about it," asserted Louis. "I
+never saw it till you pointed it out to me. Whatever it means, it must
+be genuine. Do you not think so, father?"
+
+"I see no room to imagine any thing like deception here," said Mr.
+Gleason, after examining the paper. "I think you must obey the summons,
+Miss Thusa, and ascertain what blessings Providence may have in store
+for you."
+
+"Well," said Miss Thusa, with decision, "I will go to-morrow. What time
+does the stage start?"
+
+"Soon after sunrise," replied Mr. Gleason. "But you cannot undertake
+such a long journey alone. You have no experience in traveling in cars
+and steamboats, and, at your age, you will find it very fatiguing. We
+can accompany you as far as New York, but there we must part, for I am
+compelled to return without any delay. Louis, too, is obliged to resume
+his college studies. The young doctor cannot leave his patients. Suppose
+you invest some one with legal authority, Miss Thusa, to investigate the
+matter?"
+
+"I shall go myself," was the unhesitating answer. "As for going alone, I
+would not thank the King of England, if there was one, for his
+company--though I am obliged to you for thinking of my comfort. I know
+I'm getting old, but I should like to see the man, woman or child in
+this town, or any other, that can bear more than I can. I always was
+independent, thank the Lord. After living without the help of man this
+long, I hope I can get along without it at the eleventh hour. As to its
+being a money concern, I don't believe a word of it, and I wouldn't walk
+across the room, if it just concerned myself alone; but when I see the
+name of my poor, dead brother, I feel a command on me, just as if I saw
+it printed on tablets of stone, by the finger of the Lord Himself."
+
+The next morning the travelers were to commence their journey, with the
+unexpected addition of Miss Thusa's company part of the way. When her
+baggage was brought down, to the consternation of all she had her wheel,
+arrayed in a traveling costume of green baize, mounted on the top of
+her trunk, and no reasoning or persuasion could induce her to leave it
+behind.
+
+"I'm not going to let the Goths and Vandals get possession of it," she
+said, "when I'm gone. I've locked it up every night since the ruin of my
+thread, and--"
+
+"You can have it locked up while you are absent," interrupted Mrs.
+Gleason. "I will promise you that no injury shall happen to it."
+
+"Thank you," said Miss Thusa, nodding her head; "but where I go my wheel
+must go, too. What in the world shall I do, when I stop at night,
+without it? and in that idle place, the steamboat, I can spin a powerful
+quantity while the rest are doing nothing. It is neither big nor heavy,
+and it can go on the top of the stage very well, and be in nobody's
+way."
+
+"You can sit there, Miss Thusa, and spin, while you are riding," cried
+Louis, laughing; "that will have a _powerful_ effect."
+
+Helen and Alice felt very sad in parting from the friend and brother so
+much beloved, but they could not help smiling at Louis's suggestion. The
+young doctor, glad of an incident which cast a gleam of merriment on
+their tears, added another, which obviated every difficulty:
+
+"Only imagine it a new fashioned harp or musical instrument, in its
+green cover, and it will give eclat to the whole party. I am sure it is
+a harp of industry, on which Miss Thusa has played many a pleasant
+tune."
+
+The wheel certainly had a very distinguished appearance on the top of
+the stage, exciting universal curiosity and admiration. Children rushed
+to the door to look at it, as the wheels went flashing and rolling by,
+while older heads were seen gazing from the windows, till the verdant
+wonder disappeared from their view.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+    "What a fair lady!--and beside her
+    What a handsome, graceful, noble rider."--_Longfellow._
+
+      "Love was to her impassioned soul
+      Not as with others a mere part
+    Of its existence--but the whole,
+      The very life-breath of his heart."--_Moore._
+
+
+We would like to follow Miss Thusa and her wheel, and relate the manner
+in which she defended it from many a rude and insolent attack. The
+Israelites never guarded the Ark of the Covenant with more jealous care
+and undaunted courage.
+
+But as we have commenced the history of our younger favorites in early
+childhood, and are following them up the steep of life, we find they
+have a long journey before them, and we are obliged here and there to
+make a long step, a bold leap, or the pilgrimage would be too long and
+weary.
+
+We acknowledge a preference for Miss Thusa. She is a strong, original
+character, and the sunlight of imagination loves to rest upon its
+salient angles and projecting lines. When we commenced her sketch, our
+sole design was to describe her influence on the minds of others, and to
+make her a warning beacon to the mariners of life, that they might avoid
+the shoals on which the peace of so many morbidly sensitive minds have
+been wrecked. But we found a fascination in the subject which we could
+not resist. A heart naturally warm, defrauded of all natural objects on
+which to expend its living fervor, a mind naturally strong confined
+within close and narrow limits, an energy concentrated and unwasting,
+capable of carrying its possessor through every emergency and every
+trial--these characteristics of a lonely woman, however poor and
+unconnected she might be, have sometimes drawn us away from attractive
+themes.
+
+We do not know that Mittie can be called attractive, but she is young,
+handsome and intellectual, and there is a charm in youth, beauty and
+intellect that too often disarms the judgment, and renders it blind to
+moral defects.
+
+When Mittie returned from school, crowned with the laurels of the
+institution in which she had graduated, wearing the stature, and
+exhibiting the manners of a woman, though still in years a child, she
+appeared to her young companions surrounded with a _prestige_, in whose
+dazzling rays her childish faults were forgotten.
+
+Mrs. Gleason, who had been looking forward with dread to the hour of her
+step-daughter's return, met her with every demonstration of affectionate
+regard. She had never seen Mittie, and as her father always spoke of her
+as "the child," palliating her errors on the plea of her motherless
+childhood, she was not prepared for the splendidly developed, womanly
+girl, who received her kind advances with a haughty and repelling
+coldness, which brought an angry flush to the father's brow.
+
+"Mittie," said he, emphatically, "this is your _mother_. Remember that
+she is to receive from all my children the respect and affection to
+which she is eminently entitled."
+
+"I know she is your wife, sir, and that her name is Mrs. Gleason, but
+that does not make her a mother of mine," replied the young girl, with
+surprising coolness.
+
+"Mittie," exclaimed the father--what he would have said was averted by a
+hand laid gently on his arm, and a beseeching look from the eyes of the
+amiable step-mother.
+
+"Do not constrain her to call me mother," she said. "I do not despair of
+gaining her affections in time. I care not for the mere name,
+unaccompanied by the feelings which make it so dear and holy."
+
+One would have supposed that a remark like this, uttered in a calm, mild
+tone, a tone of mingled dignity and affability, would have touched a
+heart of only fifteen summer's growth, but Mittie knew not yet that she
+had a heart. She had never yet really loved a human being. Insensible to
+the sweet tendernesses of nature, it was reserved for the lightning bolt
+of passion to shiver the hard, bark-like covering, and penetrate to the
+living core.
+
+She triumphed in the thought that in the struggle for power between her
+step-mother and herself she had gained the ascendency, that she had
+never yielded one iota of her will, never called her _mother_, or
+acknowledged her legitimate and sacred claims. She began to despise the
+woman, who was weak enough, as she believed, to be overruled by a young
+girl like herself. But she did not know Mrs. Gleason--as a scene which
+occurred just one year after her return will show.
+
+Mittie was seated in her own room, where she always remained, save when
+company called expressly to see her. She never assisted her mother
+either in discharging the duties of hospitality or in performing those
+little household offices which fall so gracefully on the young.
+Engrossed with her books and studies, pursuits noble and ennobling in
+themselves, but degraded from their high and holy purpose when
+cultivated to the exclusion of the lovely, feminine virtues, Mittie was
+almost a stranger beneath her father's roof.
+
+The chamber in which she was seated bore elegant testimony to the
+kindness and liberality of her step-mother--who, before Mittie's return
+from school, had prepared and furnished this apartment expressly for her
+two young daughters. As Mittie was the eldest, and to be the first
+occupant, her supposed tastes were consulted, and her imagined wants all
+anticipated. Mrs. Gleason had a small fortune of her own, so that she
+was not obliged to draw upon her husband's purse when she wished to be
+generous. She had therefore spared no expense in making this room a
+little sanctum-sanctorum, where youth would delight to dwell.
+
+"Mittie loves books," she said, and she selected some choice and elegant
+works to fill the shelves of a swinging library--of course she must be
+fond of paintings, and the walls were adorned with pictures whose gilded
+frames relieved their soft, neutral tint.
+
+"Young girls love white. It is the appropriate livery of innocence."
+
+Therefore bed-curtains, window-curtains, and counterpane were of the
+dazzling whiteness of snow. Even the table and washstand were white,
+ornamented with gilded wreaths.
+
+"Mittie was fond of writing--all school girls are," therefore an elegant
+writing desk must be ready for her use--and though her love of sewing
+was more doubtful, a beautiful workbox was ready for her accommodation.
+She well knew the character of Mittie, and her personal opposition to
+herself, but she was determined to overcome her prejudices, and bind her
+to her by every endearing obligation.
+
+"His children _must_ love me," she said, "and all that woman can and
+ought to do shall be done by me before I relinquish my labors of love."
+
+Mittie enjoyed the gift without being grateful to the giver; she basked
+in the sunshine of comfort, without acknowledging the source from which
+it emanated. For one year she had been treated with unvarying
+tenderness, consideration, and regard, in spite of coldness,
+haughtiness, and occasional insolence, till she began to despise one who
+could lavish so much on a thankless, unreturning receiver.
+
+She was surprised when her step-mother entered her room at the unusual
+hour of bed time--and looking up from the book she was reading, her
+countenance expressed impatience and curiosity. She did not rise or
+offer her a chair, but after one rude, fixed stare, resumed her reading.
+Mrs. Gleason seated herself with perfect composure, and taking up a book
+herself, seemed to be absorbed in its contents. There was something so
+unusual in her manner that Mittie, in spite of her determination to
+appear imperturbable and careless, could not help gazing upon her with
+increasing astonishment. She was dressed in a loose night wrapper, her
+hair was unbraided, and hanging loose over her shoulders, and there was
+an air of ease and freedom diffused over her person, that added much to
+its attractions. Mittie had always thought her stiff and formal--now
+there was a graceful abandonment about her, as if she had thrown off
+chains which had galled her, or a burden which oppressed.
+
+"To what am I indebted for the honor of this visit, madam?" asked
+Mittie, throwing her book on the table with unlady-like force.
+
+"To a desire for a little private conversation," replied Mrs. Gleason,
+looking steadfastly in Mittie's face.
+
+"I am going to bed," said she, with an unsuppressed yawn, "you had
+better take a more fitting hour."
+
+"I shall not detain you long," replied her step-mother, "a few words can
+comprehend all I have to utter. This night is the anniversary of the
+one which brought us under the same roof. I then made a vow to myself
+that for one year I would labor with a bigot's zeal and a martyr's
+enthusiasm, to earn the love and entitle myself to the good opinion of
+my husband's daughter. I made a vow of self-abnegation, which no Hindoo
+devotee ever more religiously kept. I had been told that you were cold
+hearted and selfish; but I said love is invincible and must prevail;
+youth is susceptible and cannot resist the impressions of gratitude. I
+said this, Mittie, one year ago, in faith and hope and self-reliance. I
+have now come to tell you that my vow is fulfilled. I have done all that
+is due to you, nay, more, far more. It remains for me to fulfill my
+duties to myself. If I cannot make you _love_ me, I will not allow you
+to _despise_ me."
+
+The bold, bright eye of Mittie actually sunk before the calm, rebuking
+glance, which gave emphasis to every cool, deliberate word. Here was the
+woman she had dared to treat with disdain, as undeserving her respect,
+as the usurper of a place to which she had no right, whom she had
+predetermined to _hate_ because she was her _step-mother_, and whom she
+continued to dislike because she had predetermined to do so, all at once
+assuming an attitude of commanding self-respect, and asserting her own
+claims with irresistible dignity and truth. Taken completely by
+surprise, her usual fluency of language forsook her, and she sat one
+moment confounded and abashed. _Her claims?_ it was the first time the
+idea of her step-mother having any legitimate claims on her, had assumed
+the appearance of reality. Something glanced into her mind,
+foreshadowing the truth that after all she was more dependent on her
+father's wife, than her father's wife on her. It was like the flashing
+of lamplight on the picture-frames and golden flower leaves on the
+table, at which they both were seated.
+
+"I have been alone the whole evening," continued Mrs. Gleason, in a
+still calmer, more decided tone, "preparing myself for this interview;
+for the time for a full understanding is come. All the sacrifices I have
+made during the past year were for your father's peace and your own
+good. To him I have never complained, nor ever shall I; but I should
+esteem myself unworthy to be his wife, if I willingly submitted longer
+to the yoke of humiliation. I tell thee truly, Mittie, when I say, I
+care not for your love, for which I have so long striven in vain. You do
+not love your own family, and why should I expect to inspire what they,
+father, brother and sister have never kindled in your breast? I care not
+for your love, but I _will_ have your respect. I defy you from this
+moment ever to treat me with insolence. I defy you henceforth, ever by
+word, look or thought, to associate me with the idea of _contempt_."
+
+Her eye flashed with long suppressed indignation, and her face reddened
+with the liberated stream of her emotions. Rising, and gathering up her
+hair, which was sweeping back from her forehead, she took her lamp and
+turned to depart. Just as she reached the door she turned back and
+added, in a softer tone,
+
+"Though you will never more see me in the aspect of a seeker after
+courtesy and good will, I shall never reject any overtures for
+reconciliation. If the time should ever come, when you feel the need of
+counsel and sympathy, the necessity of a friend; if your heart ever
+awakens, Mittie, and utters the new-born cry of helplessness and pain,
+you will find me ready to listen and relieve. Good night."
+
+She passed from her presence, and Mittie felt as if she had been in a
+dream, so strange and unnatural was the impression left upon her mind.
+She was at first perfectly stunned with amazement, then consciousness,
+accompanied with some very disagreeable stinging sensations, returned.
+When a very calm, self-possessed person allows feeling or passion to
+gain the ascendency over them, they are invested for the moment with
+overmastering power.
+
+"I have never done justice to her intellect," thought she, recalling the
+words of her step-mother, with an involuntary feeling of admiration;
+"but I want not her love. When it is necessary to my happiness I will
+seek it. Love! she never cared any thing about me; she does not pretend
+that she did. She tried to win my good will from policy, not
+sensibility; and this is the origin of all the comforts and luxuries
+with which she has surrounded me. Why should I be grateful then? Thank
+Heaven! I am no hypocrite; I never dissembled, never professed what I do
+not feel. If every one were as honest and independent as I am, there
+would be very little of this vapid sentimentality, this love-breath,
+which comes and goes like a night mist, and leaves nothing behind it."
+
+The next morning Mittie could not help feeling some embarrassment when
+she met her step-mother at the breakfast-table, but the lady herself was
+not in the least disconcerted; she was polite and courteous, but calm
+and cold. There was a barrier around her which Mittie felt that she
+could not pass, and she was uncomfortable in the position in which she
+had placed herself.
+
+And thus time went on--thus the golden opportunities of youth fled.
+Helen was still at school; Louis at college. But when Louis graduated,
+he came home, accompanied by a classmate whose name was Bryant
+Clinton--and his coming was an event in that quiet neighborhood. When
+Louis announced to his father that he was going to bring with him a
+young friend and fellow collegian, Mr. Gleason was unprepared for the
+reception of the dashing and high bred young gentleman who appeared as
+his guest.
+
+Mittie happened to be standing on the rustic bridge, near the celebrated
+bleaching ground of Miss Thusa, when her brother and his friend arrived.
+She was no lover of nature, and there was nothing in the bland, dewy
+stillness of declining day to woo her abroad amid the glories of a
+summer's sunset. But from that springing arch, she could look up the
+high road and see the dust glimmering like particles of gold, telling
+that life had been busy there--and sometimes, as at the present moment,
+when something unusually magnificent presented itself to the eye, she
+surrendered herself to the pleasure of admiration. There had been heavy,
+dun, rolling clouds all the latter part of the day, and when the sun
+burst forth behind them, he came with the touch of Midas,
+instantaneously transmuting every thing into gold. The trunks of the
+trees were changed to the golden pillars of an antique temple, the
+foliage was all powdered with gold, here and there deepening into a
+bronze, and sweeping round those pillars in folds of gorgeous tapestry.
+The windows of the distant houses were all gleaming like molten gold;
+and every blade of grass was tipped with the same glittering fluid.
+Mittie had never beheld any thing so gloriously beautiful. She stood
+leaning against the light railing, unconscious that she herself was
+bathed in the same golden light--that it quivered in the dark waves of
+her hair, and gilt the roses of her glowing cheek. She did not know how
+bright and resplendent she looked, when two horsemen appeared in the
+high road, gathering around them in quivers the glittering arrows
+darting from the sky. As they rapidly approached, she recognized her
+brother, and knew that the young gentleman who accompanied him must be
+his friend, Bryant Clinton. The steed on which he was mounted was black
+as a raven, and the hair of the young man was long, black, and flowing
+as his horse's sable mane. As he came near, reining in the high mettled
+animal, while his locks blew back in the breeze, enriched with the same
+golden lustre with which every thing was shining, Mittie suddenly
+remembered Miss Thusa's legend of the black horseman, with the jetty
+hair entwined in the maiden's bleeding heart. Strange, that it should
+come back to her so vividly and painfully.
+
+Louis recognized his sister, standing on the airy arch of the bridge, and
+rode directly to the garden gate. Clinton did the same, but instead of
+darting through the gate, as Louis did, he only dismounted, lifted his
+hat gracefully from his head, and bowed with lowly deference--then
+throwing his arm over the saddle bow, he waited till the greeting was
+over. Mittie was not the favorite sister of Louis, for she had repelled
+him as she had all others by her cold and haughty self-concentration--but
+though he did not _love_ her as he did Helen, she was his sister, she
+appeared to him the personification of home, of womanhood, and his pride
+was gratified by the full blown flower and splendor of her beauty. She
+had gained much in height since he had last seen her; her hair, which was
+then left waving in the wild freedom of childhood, was now gathered into
+bands, and twisted behind, showing the classic contour of her head and
+neck. Louis had never thought before whether Mittie was handsome or not.
+She had not seemed so to him. He had never spoken of her as such to his
+friend. Helen, sweet Helen, was the burden of his speech, the one lovely
+sister of his heart. The idea of being proud of Mittie never occurred to
+him, but now she flashed upon him like a new revelation, in the glow and
+freshness and power of her just developed womanly charms. He was glad he
+had found her in that picturesque spot, graceful attitude, and partaking
+largely and richly of the glorification of nature. He was glad that
+Bryant Clinton, the greatest connoisseur in female beauty he had ever
+seen, should meet her for the first time under circumstances of peculiar
+personal advantage. He thought, too, there was more than her wonted
+cordiality in her greeting, and that her cheek grew warm under his
+hearty, brotherly kiss.
+
+"Why, Mittie," cried he, "I hardly knew you, you have grown so handsome
+and stately. I never saw any one so altered in my life--a perfect Juno.
+I want to introduce my friend to you--a noble hearted, generous,
+princely spirited fellow. A true Virginian, rather reckless with regard
+to expenditure, perhaps, but extravagance is a kingly fault--I like it.
+He is a passionate admirer of beauty, too, Mittie, and his manners are
+perfectly irresistible. I shall be proud if he admires you, for I assure
+you his admiration is a compliment of which any maiden may be proud."
+
+While he was speaking, Clinton followed the beckoning motion of his
+hand, and approached the bridge. It is impossible to describe the ease
+and grace of his motions, or the wild charm imparted to his countenance
+by the long, dark, shining, back-flowing locks, that softened their
+haughty outline. His hair, eye-lashes and eye-brows were of deep, raven
+black, but his eyes were a dark blue, a union singularly striking, and
+productive of wonderful expression. As he came nearer and nearer, and
+Mittie felt those dark blue, black shaded eyes riveted on her face, with
+a look of unmistakable admiration, she remembered the words of her
+brother, and the consciousness of beauty, for the first time, gave her a
+sensation of pride and pleasure. She was too proud to be vain--and what
+cared she for gifts, destined, like pearls, to be cast before an
+unvaluing herd? The young doctor was the only young man whose admiration
+she had ever thought worthy to secure, and having met from him only cold
+politeness, she had lately felt for him only bitterness and dislike.
+Living as she had done in a kind of cold abstraction, enjoying only the
+pleasures of intellect, in all the sufficiency of self, it was a matter
+of indifference to her what people thought of her. She felt so
+infinitely above them, looking down like the aeronaut, from a colder,
+more rarefied atmosphere, upon objects lessened to meanness by her own
+elevation.
+
+She could never look down on such a being as Bryant Clinton. Her first
+thought was--"Will he dare to look down on me?" There was so much pride,
+tempered by courtesy, such an air of lofty breeding, softened by grace,
+so much intellectual power and sleeping passion in his face, that she
+felt the contact of a strong, controlling spirit, a will to which her
+own might be constrained to bow.
+
+They walked to the house together, while Louis gave directions about the
+horses, and he entered into conversation at once so easily and
+gracefully, that Mittie threw off the slight embarrassment that
+oppressed her, and answered him in the same light spirited tone. She was
+astonished at herself, for she was usually reserved with strangers, and
+her thoughts seldom effervesced in brilliant sallies or sparkling
+repartees. But Clinton carried about with him the wand of an enchanter,
+and every thing he touched, sparkled and shone with newly awakened or
+reflected brightness. Every one has felt the influence of that
+indescribable fascination of manner which some individuals possess, and
+which has the effect of electricity or magnetism. Something that
+captivates, even against the will, and keeps one enthralled, in spite of
+the struggling of pride, and the shame attendant on submission. One of
+these fascinating, electric, magnetic beings was Clinton. Louis had long
+been one of his captives, but _he_ was such a gay, frank, confiding,
+porous hearted being, it was not strange, but that he should break
+through the triple bars of coldness, haughtiness and reserve, which
+Mittie had built around her, so high no mortal had scaled them--this was
+more than strange--it was miraculous.
+
+When Mittie retired that night, instead of preparing for sleep, she sat
+down in the window, and tried to analyze the charm which drew her
+towards this stranger, without any volition of her own. She could not do
+it--it was intangible, evasive and subtle. The effect of his presence
+was like the sun-burst on the landscape, the moment of his arrival. The
+dark places of her soul seemed suddenly illumined; the massy columns of
+her intellect turned like the tree trunks, into pillars of gold and
+light; gilded foliage, in new born leaflets, played about the branches.
+She looked up into the heavens, and thought they had never bent in such
+grandeur and splendor over her, nor the solemn poetry of night ever
+addressed her in such deep, earnest language. All her senses appeared
+to have acquired an acuteness, an exquisiteness that made them
+susceptible almost to pain. The stars dazzled her like sunbeams, and
+those low, murmuring, monotonous sounds, the muffled beatings of the
+heart of night, rung loudly and distinctly on her ear. Alarmed at the
+strange excitement of her nerves, she rose and looked round the
+apartment which her step-mother's hand had adorned, and _ingratitude_
+seemed written in large, dark characters on the soft, grayish colored
+walls. Why had she never seen this writing before? Why had the debt she
+owed this long suffering and now alienated benefactress, never before
+been acknowledged before the tribunal of conscience? Because her heart
+was awakening out of a life-long sleep, and the light of a new creation
+was beaming around her.
+
+She took the lamp, and placing it in front of the mirror, gazed
+deliberately on her person.
+
+"Am I handsome?" she mentally asked, taking out her comb, whose pressure
+seemed intolerable, and suffering the dark redundance of her hair to
+flow, unrestrained, around her. "Louis says that I am, and methinks this
+mirror reflects a glorious image. Surely I am changed, or I have never
+really looked on myself before."
+
+Yes! she was changed. The light within the cold, alabaster vase was
+kindled, giving a life and a glow to what was before merely symmetrical
+and classic. There was a color coming and going in her cheek, a warm
+lustre coming and going in her eye, and she could not tell whence it
+came, nor whither it went.
+
+From this evening a new era in her life commenced.
+
+Days and weeks glided by, and Clinton still remained the guest of Louis.
+He sometimes spoke of going home, but Louis said--"not yet"--and the
+sudden paleness of Mittie's cheek spoke volumes. During all this time,
+they had walked, and rode, and talked together, and the enchantment had
+become stronger and more pervading Mr. Gleason sometimes thought he
+ought not to allow so close an intimacy between his daughter and a young
+man of whose private character he knew so little, but when he reflected
+how soon he was to depart to his distant home, probably never to return,
+there seemed little danger to be apprehended from his short sojourn with
+them. Then Mittie, though she might be susceptible of admiration for
+his splendid qualities, and though her vanity might be gratified by his
+apparent devotion--_Mittie had no heart_. If it were Helen, it would be
+a very different thing, but Mittie was incapable of love, uninflammable
+as asbestos, and cold as marble.
+
+Mrs. Gleason, with the quicker perception of woman, penetrated deeper
+than her husband, and saw that passions were aroused in that hitherto
+insensible heart which, if opposed, might be terrible in their power.
+Since her conversation with Mittie, where she yielded up all attempt at
+maternal influence, and like "Ephraim joined to idols, _let her alone_,"
+she had never uttered a word of counsel or rebuke. She had been coldly,
+distantly courteous, and as she had prophesied, met with at least the
+semblance of respect. It was more than the semblance, it was the
+reality. Mittie disdained dissimulation, and from the moment her
+step-mother asserted her own dignity, she felt it. Mrs Gleason would
+have lifted up her warning voice, but she knew it would be disregarded,
+and moreover, she had pledged herself to neutrality, unless admonition
+or counsel were asked.
+
+"Let us go in and see Miss Thusa," said Louis, as they were returning
+one evening from a long walk in the woods. "I must show Clinton all the
+lions in the neighborhood, and Miss Thusa is the queen of the
+menagerie."
+
+"It is too late, brother," cried Mittie, well knowing that she was no
+favorite of Miss Thusa, who might recall some of the incidents of her
+childhood, which she now wished buried in oblivion.
+
+"Just the hour to make a fashionable call," said Clinton. "I should like
+to see this belle of the wild woods."
+
+"Oh! she is very old and very ugly," exclaimed Mittie, "and I assure
+you, will give you a very uncourteous reception."
+
+"Youth and beauty and courtesy will only appear more lovely by force of
+contrast," said Clinton, offering her his hand to assist her over the
+stile, with a glance of irresistible persuasion.
+
+Mittie was constrained to yield, but an anxious flush rose to her cheek
+for the result of this dreaded interview. She had not visited Miss Thusa
+since her return from school, for she had no pleasing associations
+connected with her to draw her to her presence. Since her memorable
+journey with her wheel, Miss Thusa had taken possession of her former
+abode, and no entreaties could induce her to resume her wandering life.
+She never revealed the mystery of the advertisement, or the result of
+her journey, but a female Ixion, bound to the wheel, spun away her
+solitary hours, and nursed her own peculiar, solemn traits of character.
+
+The house looked very much like a hermitage, with its low, slanting,
+wigwam roof, and dark stone walls, planted in the midst of underbrush,
+through which no visible path was seen. There was no gate, but a stile,
+made of massy logs, piled in the form of steps, which were beautifully
+carpeted with moss. A well, whose long sweep was also wreathed with
+moss, was just visible above the long, rank grass, with its old oaken
+bucket swinging in the air.
+
+"What a superb old hermitage!" exclaimed Clinton, as they approached the
+door. "I feel perfectly sublime already. If the lion queen is worthy of
+her lair, I would make a pilgrimage to visit her."
+
+"Now, pray, brother," said Mittie, determined to make as short a stay as
+possible, "don't ask her to tell any of her horrible stories. I am
+sure," she added, turning to Clinton, "you would find them exceedingly
+wearisome."
+
+"They are the most interesting things in the world," said Louis, with
+provoking enthusiasm, as opening the door, he bowed his sister in--then
+taking Clinton's arm, ushered him into the presence of the stately
+spinster.
+
+Miss Thusa did not rise, but suffering her foot to pause on the treadle,
+she pushed her spectacles to the top of her head, and looked round upon
+her unexpected visitors. Mittie, who felt that the dark shaded eye of
+Clinton was upon her, accosted her with unwonted politeness, but it was
+evident the stern hostess returned her greeting with coldness and
+repulsion. Her features relaxed, when Louis, cordially grasping her
+hand, expressed his delight at seeing her looking so like the Miss Thusa
+of his early boyhood. Perceiving the aristocratic stranger, she
+acknowledged his graceful, respectful bow, by rising, and her tall
+figure towered like a column of gray marble in the centre of the low
+apartment.
+
+"And who is Mr. Bryant Clinton?" said she, scanning him with her eye of
+prophecy, "that he should visit the cabin of a poor, old, lonely woman
+like me? I didn't expect such an honor. But I suppose he came for the
+sake of the company he brought--not what he could find here."
+
+"We brought him, Miss Thusa," said Louis; "we want him to become
+acquainted with all our friends, and you know we would not forget you."
+
+"We!" repeated Miss Thusa, looking sternly at Mittie, "don't say _we_.
+It is the first time Mittie ever set foot in my poor cabin, and I know
+she didn't come now of her own good will. But never mind--sit down,"
+added she, drawing forward a wooden settee, equivalent to three or four
+chairs, and giving it a sweep with her handkerchief. "It is not often I
+have such fine company as this to accommodate."
+
+"Or you would have a velvet sofa for us to sit down upon," cried Louis,
+laughing, while he occupied with the others the wooden seat; "but I like
+this better, with its lofty back and broad, substantial frame. Every
+thing around you is in keeping, Miss Thusa, and looks antique and
+majestic; the walls of gray stone, the old, moss-covered well-sweep, the
+dear old wheel, your gray colored dress, always the same, yet always
+looking nice and new. I declare, Miss Thusa, I am tempted to turn hermit
+myself, and come and live with you, if you would let me. I am beginning
+to be tired of the world."
+
+He laughed gayly, but a shade passed over his countenance, darkening its
+sunshine.
+
+"And I am just beginning to be awake to its charms," said Clinton, "just
+beginning to _live_. I would not now forsake the world; but if
+disappointment and sorrow be my lot, I must plead with Miss Thusa to
+receive me into her hermitage, and teach me her admirable philosophy."
+
+Though he addressed Miss Thusa, his glances played lambently on Mittie's
+face, and told her the meaning of his words.
+
+"Pshaw!" exclaimed Miss Thusa, "don't try to make a fool of me, young
+gentleman. Louis, Master Louis, Mr. Gleason--what shall I call you now,
+since you're grown so tall, and seem so much farther off than you used
+to be."
+
+"Call me Louis--nothing but Louis. I cannot bear the thought of being
+_Mistered_, and put off at a distance. Oh, there is nothing so sweet as
+the name a mother's angel lips first breathed into our ears."
+
+"I'm glad you have not forgotten your mother, Louis," said Miss Thusa,
+her countenance softening into an expression of profound sensibility;
+"she was a woman to be remembered for a life-time; though weak in body,
+she was a powerful woman for all that. When she died, I lost the best
+friend I ever had in the world, and I shall love you and Helen as long
+as I live, for her sake, as well as your own. I won't be unjust to
+anybody. _You've_ always been a good, respectful boy; and as for Helen,
+Heaven bless the child! she wasn't made for this world nor anybody in
+it. I never see a young flower, or a tender green leaf, but I think of
+her, and when they fade away, or are bitten and shrivelled by the frost,
+I think of her, too, and it makes me melancholy. When is the dear child
+coming home?"
+
+Before the conclusion of this speech, Mittie had risen and turned her
+burning cheek towards the window. She felt as if a curse were resting
+upon her, to be thus excluded from all participation in Miss Thusa's
+blessing, in the presence of Bryant Clinton. Yes, at that moment she
+felt the value of Miss Thusa's good opinion--the despised and contemned
+Miss Thusa. The praises of Helen sounded as so many horrible discords in
+her ears, and when she heard Louis reply that "Helen would return soon,
+very soon, with that divine little blind Alice," she wished that years
+on years might intervene before that period arrived, for might she not
+supplant her in the heart of Clinton, as she had in every other?
+
+While she thus stood, playing with a hop-vine that climbed a tall pole
+by the window, and shaded it with its healthy, luxuriant leaves, Clinton
+manifested the greatest interest in Miss Thusa's wheel, and the
+manufacture of her thread. He praised the beauty of its texture, the
+fineness and evenness of its fibres.
+
+"I admire this wheel," said he, "it has such a venerable, antique
+appearance. Its massy frame and brazen hoops, its grooves and swelling
+lines are a real study for the architect."
+
+"Why, I never saw those brazen rings before," exclaimed Louis, starting
+up and joining Clinton, in his study of the instrument. "When did you
+have them put on, Miss Thusa, and what is their use?"
+
+"I had them made when I took that long journey," replied Miss Thusa,
+pushing back the wheel with an air of vexation. "It got battered and
+bruised, and needed something to strengthen it. Those saucy stage
+drivers made nothing of tossing it from the top of the stage right on
+the pavement, but the same man never dared to do it but once."
+
+"This must be made of lignum-vitae," said Clinton, "it is so very heavy.
+Such must have been the instrument that Hercules used, when he bowed his
+giant strength to the distaff, to gratify a beautiful woman's whim."
+
+"Well, I can't see what there is in an old wheel to attract a young
+gentleman like you, so!" exclaimed Miss Thusa, interposing her tall
+figure between it and the collegian. "I don't want Hercules, or any sort
+of man, to spin at my distaff, I can tell you. It's woman's work, and
+it's a shame for a man to interfere with it. No, no! it is better for
+you to ride about the country with your black horse and gold-colored
+fringes, turning the heads of silly girls and gaping children, than to
+meddle with an old woman and her wheel."
+
+"Why, Miss Thusa, what makes you so angry?" cried Louis, astonished at
+the excitement of her manner. "I never knew you impolite before."
+
+"I apologise for my own rudeness," said Clinton, with inexpressible
+grace and ease. "I was really interested in the subject, and forgot that
+I might be intrusive. I respect every lady's rights too much to infringe
+upon them."
+
+"I don't mean to be rude," replied Miss Thusa, giving her glasses a
+downward jerk, "but I've lived so much by myself, that I don't know any
+thing about the soft, palavering ways of the world. I say again, I don't
+want to be rude, and I'm not ashamed to ask pardon if I am so; but I
+know this fine young gentleman cares no more for me, nor my wheel, than
+the man in the moon, and I don't like to have any one try to pass off
+the show for the reality."
+
+She fixed her large, gray eye so steadfastly on Clinton, that his cheek
+flushed with the hue of resentful sensibility, and Louis thinking Miss
+Thusa in a singularly repulsive mood, thought it better to depart.
+
+"If it were not so late," said he, approaching the door, "I would ask
+you for one of your interesting legends, Miss Thusa, but by the long
+shadow of the well-sweep on the grass, the sun must be almost down. Why
+do you never come to see us now? My mother would give you a cordial
+welcome."
+
+"That's right. I love to hear you call her mother, Louis. She is worthy
+of the name. She is a lady, a noble hearted lady, that honored the
+family by coming into it; and they who wouldn't own her, disgrace
+themselves, not her. Go among the poor, _if_ you want to know her worth.
+Hear _them_ talk--but as for my stories, I never can tell them, if there
+is a scoffing tongue, and an unbelieving ear close by. I cannot feel my
+_gift_. I cannot glorify the Lord who gave it. When Helen comes, bring
+her to me, for I've something to tell her that I mustn't carry to my
+grave. The blind child, too, I should like to see her again. I would
+give one of my eyes now, to put sight into hers--both of them, I might
+say, for I shan't use them much longer."
+
+"Why, Miss Thusa, you are a _powerful_ woman yet," said Louis, measuring
+her erect and commanding figure, with an upward glance. "I shouldn't
+wonder if you lived to preside at all our funerals. I don't think you
+ever can grow weak and infirm."
+
+Miss Thusa shook her head, and slipped up the sleeve of her left arm,
+showing the shrunken flesh and shrivelled skin.
+
+"There's weakness and infirmity coming on," said she, "but I don't mind
+it. This world isn't such a paradise, at the best, that one would want
+to stay in it forever. And there's one comfort, I shall leave nobody
+behind to bewail me when I'm gone."
+
+"Ah! Miss Thusa, how unjust you are. _I_ shall bewail you; and, as for
+Helen, I do believe the sweet, tender-hearted soul would cry her eyes
+out. Even the lovely, blind Alice would weep for your loss. And
+Mittie--but it seems to me you are not quite kind to Mittie. I should
+think you had too much magnanimity to remember the idle pranks of
+childhood against any one. Why, see what a handsome, glorious looking
+girl she is now."
+
+Mittie turned haughtily away, and stepped out on the mossy door-stone.
+All her early scorn and hatred of Miss Thusa revived with even added
+force. Clinton followed her, but lingered on the threshold for Louis,
+whose hand the ancient sibyl grasped with a cordial farewell pressure.
+
+"Mittie and I never were friends, and never can be," said she, "but I
+wish her no harm. I wish her better luck than I think is in her path
+now. As for yourself, if you should get into trouble, and not want to
+vex those that are kin, you can come to me, and if you don't despise my
+counsel and assistance, perhaps it may do you good. I have a legend that
+I've been storing up for your ears, too, and one of these days I should
+like to tell it to you. But," lowering her voice to a whisper, "leave
+that long-haired, smooth-tongued gentleman behind."
+
+"Was I not right," said Mittie, when they had passed the stile, and
+could no longer discern the ancestral figure of Miss Thusa in the door
+of her lonely dwelling, "in saying that she is a very rude, disagreeable
+person? She is so vindictive, too. She never could forgive me, because
+when a little child I cared not to listen to her terrible tales of
+ghosts and monsters. Helen believed every word she uttered, till she
+became the most superstitious, fearful creature in the world."
+
+"You should add, the sweetest, dearest, best," interrupted Louis,
+"unless we except the angelic blind maiden."
+
+"I should think if you had any affection for me, Louis," said Mittie,
+turning pale, as his praises of Helen fell on Clinton's ear, "you would
+resent the rudeness and impertinence to which you have just exposed me.
+What must your friend think of me? Was it to lower me in his opinion
+that you carried him to her hovel, and drew forth her spiteful and
+bitter remarks?"
+
+"Do you think it possible that _she_ could alter my opinion of _you_?"
+said Clinton, in a low, earnest tone. "If any thing could have exalted
+it, it would be the dignity and forbearance with which you bore her
+insinuations, and defeated her malice."
+
+"I am sorry, Mittie," cried Louis, touched by her paleness and emotion,
+and attributing it entirely to wounded feeling, "I am very sorry that I
+have been the indirect cause of giving you pain. It was certainly
+unintentional. Miss Thusa was in rather a savage mood this evening, I
+must acknowledge; but she is not malicious, Clinton. With all her
+eccentricities, she has some sterling virtues. If you could only see
+her inspired, and hear one of her _powerful_ tales!"
+
+"If you ever induce him to go there a second time!" exclaimed Mittie,
+withdrawing herself from the arm with which he had encircled her waist,
+and giving him a glance from her dark, bright eyes, that might have
+scorched him, it was so intensely, dazzlingly angry.
+
+"Believe me," said Clinton, "no inducement could tempt me again to a
+place associated with painful remembrances in your mind."
+
+He had not seen the glance, for he was walking on the other side, and
+when she turned towards him, in answer to his soothing remark, the
+starry moon of night is not more darkly beautiful or resplendent than
+her face.
+
+So he told her when Louis left them at the gate leading to their
+dwelling, and so he told her again when they were walking alone together
+in the star-bright night.
+
+"Why do they talk to me of Helen?" said he, and his voice stole through
+the stilly air as gently as the falling dew. "What can she be, in
+comparison with you? Little did I think Louis had another sister so
+transcendent, when I saw you standing on the rustic bridge, the most
+radiant vision that ever beamed on the eye of mortal. You remember that
+evening. All the sunbeams of Heaven gathered around _you_, the focus of
+the golden firmament."
+
+"Louis loves me not as he does Helen," replied Mittie, her heart
+bounding with rapture at his glowing praises, "no one does. Even you,
+who now profess to love me beyond all created beings, if Helen came,
+might be lured by _her_ attractions to forget all you have been
+breathing into my ears."
+
+"I confess I should like to see one whose attractions _you_ can fear.
+She must be superlatively lovely."
+
+"She is not beautiful nor lovely, Clinton. No one ever called her so.
+Fear! I never knew the sensation of fear. It is not fear that she could
+inspire, but a stronger, deeper passion."
+
+He felt the arm tremble that was closely locked in his, and he could see
+her lip curl like a rose-leaf fluttering in the breeze.
+
+"Speak, Mittie, and tell me what you mean. I can think of but one
+passion now, and that the strongest and deepest that ever ruled the
+heart of man."
+
+"I cannot describe my meaning," replied Mittie, pausing under a tree
+that shaded their path, and leaning against its trunk; "but I can feel
+it. Till you came, I knew not what feeling was; I read of it in books.
+It was the theme of many a fluent tongue, but all was cold and passive
+_here_," said she, pressing her hand on the throbbing heart that now
+ached with the intensity of its emotion. "Everybody said I had no heart,
+and I believed them. You first taught me that there was a vital spark
+burning within it, and blew upon it with a breath of flame. I tell you,
+Clinton, you had better tamper with the lightning's chain than the
+passions of this suddenly awakened heart. I tell you I am a dangerous
+being. There is a power within me that makes me tremble with its
+consciousness. I am a young girl, with no experience. I know nothing of
+the blandishments of art, and if I did I would scorn to exercise them.
+You have told me a thousand times that you loved me and I have believed
+you. I would willingly die a thousand times for the rapture of hearing
+it once; but if I thought the being lived who could supplant me--if I
+thought you could ever prove false to me--"
+
+Her eye flashed and her cheek glowed in the night-beams that, as Clinton
+said, made her their focus, so brightly were they reflected from her
+face. What Clinton said, it is unnecessary to repeat, for the language
+of passion is commonplace, unless it flows from lips as fresh and
+unworldly and impulsive as Mittie's.
+
+"Let me put a mark on this tree," she said, stooping down and picking up
+a sharp fragment of rock at its base. "If you ever forget what you have
+said to me this night, I will lead you to this spot, and show you the
+wounded bark--"
+
+She began to carve her own initials, but he insisted upon substituting
+his penknife and assisting her in the task, to which she consented. As
+they stood side by side, he guiding her hand, and his long, soft locks
+playing against her cheek, or mingling with her own, she surrendered
+herself to a feeling of unalloyed happiness, when all at once Miss
+Thusa's legend of the Black Knight, with the dark, far-flowing hair,
+and the maiden with the bleeding heart, came to her remembrance, and she
+involuntarily shuddered.
+
+"Why am I ever recalling that wild legend?" thought she. "I am getting
+to be as weak and superstitious as Helen. Why, when it seems to me that
+the wing of an angel is fluttering against my cheek, should I remember
+that demon-sprite?"
+
+Underneath her initials he carved his own, in larger, bolder characters.
+
+"Would you believe it," said she, in a light mocking tone, "that I felt
+every stroke of your knife on that bark? Oh, you do not know how deep
+you cut! It seems that my life is infused into that tree, and that it is
+henceforth a part of myself."
+
+"Strange, romantic girl that you are! Supposing the lightning should
+strike it, think you that you would feel the shaft?"
+
+"Yes, if it shattered the tablet that bears those united names. But the
+lightning does not often make a channel in the surface of the silver
+barked beech. There are loftier trees around. The stately oak and
+branching elm will be more likely to win the fiery crown of electricity
+than this."
+
+Mittie clasped her arms around the tree, and laid her cheek against the
+ciphers. The next moment she flitted away, ashamed of her enthusiasm, to
+hide her blushes and agitation in the solitude of her own chamber.
+
+The next morning she found a wreath of roses round the tablet, and the
+next, and the next. So day after day the passion of her heart was fed by
+love-gifts offered at that shrine, where, by the silver starlight, they
+had met, and ONE at least had worshiped.
+
+
+
+
+PART THIRD.
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+    ----A countenance in which did meet
+    Sweet records,--promises as sweet--
+    A creature not too bright or good
+    For human nature's daily food;
+    For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
+    Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears and smiles.
+
+    _Wordsworth._
+
+
+And now we have arrived at the era, to which we have looked forward with
+eager anticipation, the return of Helen and Alice, the period when the
+severed links of the household chain were again united, when the folded
+bud of childhood began to unclose its spotless leaves, and expand in the
+solar rays of love and passion.
+
+We have said but little lately of the young doctor, not that we have
+forgotten him, but he had so little fellowship with the characters of
+our last chapter, that we forbore to introduce him in the same group. He
+did feel a strong interest in Louis, but the young collegian was so
+fascinated by his new friend, that he unconsciously slighted him whom he
+had once looked upon as a mentor and an elder brother. Mittie, the
+handsome, brilliant, haughty, but now impassioned girl, was as little to
+his taste as Mittie, the cold, selfish and repulsive child. Clinton, the
+accomplished courtier, the dashing equestrian, the graceful
+spendthrift--the apparently resistless Clinton had no attraction for
+him. He sometimes wondered if his little, simple-hearted pupil Helen
+would be carried away by the same magnetic influence, and longed to see
+her character exposed to a test so powerful and dangerous.
+
+Mr. Gleason went for the children, as he continued to call them, and
+when the time for his arrival drew near, there was more than the usual
+excitement on such occasions. Mittie could never think of her sister's
+coming without a fluctuating cheek and a throbbing heart. Mrs. Gleason
+wondered at this sensibility, unknowing its latent source, and rejoiced
+that all her affections seemed blooming in the fervid atmosphere that
+now surrounded her. Perhaps even she might yet be loved. But it was to
+Helen the heart of the step-mother went forth, whom she remembered as so
+gentle, so timid, so grateful and endearing. Would she return the same
+sweet child of nature, unspoiled by contact with other grosser elements?
+
+Clinton felt an eager curiosity to see the sister of Mittie, for whom
+she cherished such precocious jealousy, yet who, according to her own
+description, was neither beautiful nor lovely. Louis was all impatience,
+not only to see his favorite Helen, but the lovely blind girl, who had
+made such an impression on his young imagination. It is true her image
+had faded in the sultry, worldly atmosphere to which he had been
+exposed; but as he thought of the blue, sightless orbs, so beautiful yet
+soulless, the desire to loosen the fillet of darkness which the hand of
+God had bound around her brow, and to pour upon her awakening vision the
+noontide glories of creation, rekindled in his bosom.
+
+For many days Mrs. Gleason had filled the vases with fresh flowers, for
+she remembered how Helen delighted in their beauty, and Alice in their
+fragrance. There was a room prepared for Helen and Alice, while the
+latter remained her guest, and Mittie resolved that if possible, she
+would exclude her permanently from the chamber which Mrs. Gleason had so
+carefully furnished for both. She could not bear the idea of such close
+companionship with any one. She wanted to indulge in solitude her wild,
+passionate dreams, her secret, deep, incommunicable thoughts.
+
+At length the travelers arrived; weary, dusty and exhausted from
+sleepless nights, and hurried, rapid days. No magnificent sun-burst
+glorified their coming. It was a dull, grayish, dingy day, such as often
+comes, the herald of approaching autumn. Mittie could not help
+rejoicing, for she knew the power of first impressions. She knew it by
+the raptures which Clinton always expressed when he alluded to her
+first appearance on the rustic bridge, as the youthful goddess of the
+blooming season. She knew it by her own experience, when she first
+beheld Clinton in all the witchery of his noble horsemanship.
+
+Helen was unfortunately made very sick by traveling, _sea-sick_, and
+when she reached home she was exactly in that state of passive endurance
+which would have caused her to lie under the carriage wheels
+unresistingly had she been placed perchance in that position. The
+weather was close and sultry, and the dust gathered on the folds of her
+riding-dross added to the warmth and discomfort of her appearance. Her
+father carried her in his arms into the house, her head reclining
+languidly on his shoulder, her cheeks white as her muslin collar. Mittie
+caught a glimpse of Clinton's countenance as he stood in the
+back-ground, and read with exultation an expression of blank
+disappointment. After gazing fixedly at Helen, he turned towards Mittie,
+and his glance said as plainly as words could speak--
+
+"You beautiful and radiant creature, can you fear the influence of such
+a little, spiritless, sickly dowdy as this?"
+
+Relieved of the most intolerable apprehensions, her greeting of Helen
+was affectionate beyond the most sanguine hopes of the latter. She took
+off her bonnet with assiduous kindness, (though Helen would have
+preferred wearing it to her room, to displaying her disordered hair and
+dusty raiment,) leaving to Mrs. Gleason the task of ministering to the
+lovely blind girl.
+
+"Where's brother? I do not hear his step," said Alice, looking round as
+earnestly as if she expected to see his advancing figure.
+
+"He has just been called away," said Louis, "or he would be here to
+greet you. My poor little Helen, you do indeed look dreadfully used up.
+You were never made for a traveler. Why Alice's roses are scarcely
+wilted."
+
+"Nothing but fatigue and a little sea-sickness," cried her father, "a
+good night's sleep is all she needs. You will see a very different
+looking girl to-morrow, I assure you."
+
+"Better, far better as she is," thought Mittie, as she assisted the
+young travelers up stairs.
+
+Ill and weary as she was, Helen could not help noticing the astonishing
+improvement in Mittie's appearance, the life, the glow, the sunlight of
+her countenance. She gazed upon her with admiration and delight.
+
+"How handsome you have grown, Mittie," said she, "and I doubt not as
+good as you are handsome. And you look so much happier than you used to
+do. Oh! I do hope we shall love each other as sisters ought to do. It is
+so sweet to have a sister to love."
+
+The exchange of her warm, traveling dress for a loose, light undress,
+gave inexpressible relief to Helen, who, reclining on her _own
+delightful bed_, began to feel a soft, living glow stealing over the
+pallor of her cheek.
+
+"Shall I comb and brush your hair for you?" asked Mittie, sitting down
+by the side of the bed, and gathering together the tangled tresses of
+hazel brown, that looked dim in contrast with her own shining raven
+hair.
+
+"Thank you," said Helen, pressing her hand gratefully in both hers. "You
+are so kind. Only smooth Alice's first. If her brother comes, she will
+want to see him immediately--and you don't know what a pleasure it is to
+arrange her golden ringlets."
+
+"Don't _you_ want to see the young doctor, too, Helen?"
+
+"To be sure I do," replied Helen, with a brightening color, "more than
+any one else in the world, I believe. But do they call him the young
+doctor, yet?"
+
+"Yes--and will till he is as old as Methuselah, I expect," replied
+Mittie, laughing.
+
+"Brother is not more than five or six and twenty, now," cried Alice,
+with emphasis.
+
+"Or seven," added Mittie. "Oh! he is sufficiently youthful, I dare say,
+but it is amusing to see how that name is fastened upon him. It is
+seldom we hear Doctor Hazleton mentioned. He does not look a day older
+than when he prescribed for you, Helen, in your yellow flannel
+night-gown. He had a look of precocious wisdom then, which becomes him
+better now."
+
+Mittie began to think Helen very stupid, to say nothing of the dazzling
+Clinton, to whom she had taken particular pains to introduce her, when
+she suddenly asked her, "How long that very handsome young gentleman
+was going to remain?"
+
+"You think him handsome, then," cried Mittie, making a veil of the
+flaxen ringlets of Alice, so that Helen could not see the high color
+that suffused her face.
+
+"I think he is the handsomest person I ever saw," replied Helen, just as
+if she were speaking of a beautiful picture or statue; "and yet there is
+something, I cannot tell what, that I do not exactly like about him."
+
+"You are fastidious," said Mittie, coldly, and the sudden gleam of her
+eye reminding her of the Mittie of other days, Helen closed her weary
+lips.
+
+Tho next morning, she sprang from her bed light and early as the
+sky-lark. All traces of languor, indisposition and fatigue had vanished
+in the deep, tranquil, refreshing slumbers of the night. She awoke with
+the joyous consciousness of being at home beneath her father's roof. She
+was not a boarder, subject to a thousand restraints, necessary but
+irksome. She was not compelled any more to fashion her movements to the
+ringing of a bell, nor walk according to the square and compass. She was
+free. She could wander in the garden without asking permission. She
+could _run_ too, without incurring the imputation of rudeness and
+impropriety. The gyves and manacles of authority had fallen from her
+bounding limbs, and the joyous and emancipated school-girl sang in the
+gladness and glee of her heart.
+
+Alice still slept--the door of Mittie's chamber was closed, and every
+thing was silent in the household, when she flew down stairs, rather
+than walked, and went forth into the dewy morn. The sun was not yet
+risen, but there was a deepening splendor of saffron and crimson above
+the horizon, fit tapestry for the pavilion of a God. The air was so
+fresh and balmy, it felt so young and inspiring, Helen could hardly
+imagine herself more than five years old. Every thing carried her back
+to the earliest recollections of childhood. There were the swallows
+flying in and out of their little gothic windows under the beetling
+barn-eaves; and there were the martins, morning gossips from time
+immemorial, chattering at the doors of their white pagodas, with their
+bright red roofs and black thresholds. The old England robin, with its
+plumage of gorgeous scarlet, dashed with jet, swung in its airy nest,
+suspended from the topmost boughs of the tall elms, and the blue and
+yellow birds fluttered with warbling throats among the lilac's now
+flowerless but verdant boughs. Helen hardly knew which way to turn, she
+was so full of ecstacy. One moment she wished she had the wings of the
+bird, the next, the petals of the flower, and then again she felt that
+the soul within her, capable of loving and admiring all these, was worth
+a thousand times more. The letters carved on the silver bark of the
+beech arrested her steps. They were new. She had never seen them before,
+and when she saw the blended ciphers, a perception of the truth dawned
+upon her understanding. Perhaps there never was a young maiden of
+sixteen years, who had more singleness and simplicity of heart than
+Helen. From her shy and timid habits, she had never formed those close
+intimacies that so often bind accidentally together the artless and the
+artful. She was aware of the existence of love, but knew nothing of its
+varying phases. Its language had never been breathed into her ear, and
+she never dreamed of inspiring it. Could it be that it was love, which
+had given such a glow and lustre to Mittie's face, which had softened
+the harshness of her manners, and made her apparently accessible to
+sisterly tenderness?
+
+While she stood, contemplating the wedded initials, in a reverie so deep
+as to forget where she was, she felt something fall gently on her head,
+and a shower of fragrance bathed her senses. Turning suddenly round, the
+first rays of the rising sun glittered on her face, and gilt the
+flower-crown that rested on her brow. Clinton stood directly behind her,
+and his countenance wore a very different expression from what it did
+the preceding evening. And certainly it was difficult to recognize the
+pale, drooping, spiritless traveler of the previous night, in the
+bright, beaming, blushing, shy, wildly-sweet looking fairy of the
+morning hour.
+
+Helen was not angry, but she was unaffectedly frightened at finding
+herself in such close proximity with this very oppressively handsome
+young man; and without pausing to reflect on the silliness and
+childishness of the act, she flew away as rapidly as a startled bird. It
+seemed as if all the reminiscences of her childhood pressed home upon
+her in the space of a few moments. Just as she had been arrested years
+before, when fleeing from the snake that invaded her strawberry-bed, so
+she found herself impeded by a restraining arm; and looking up she
+beheld her friend, the young doctor, his face radiant with a thousand
+glad welcomes.
+
+"Oh! I am _so glad_ to see you once again," exclaimed Helen, yielding
+involuntarily to the embrace, which being one moment withheld, only made
+her heart throb with double joy.
+
+"My sister, my Helen, my own dear pupil," said Arthur Hazleton, and the
+rich glow of the morning was not deeper nor brighter than the color that
+mantled his cheek. "How well and blooming you look! They told me you
+were ill and could not be disturbed last night. I did not hope to see
+you so brilliant in health and spirits. And who crowned you so gayly,
+the fair queen of the morning?"
+
+"I don't know," she cried, taking the chaplet from her head and shaking
+the dew-drops from its leaves, "and yet I suspect it was Mr. Clinton,
+who came behind me while I was standing by yonder beech tree."
+
+Arthur's serious, dark eye rested on the young girl with a searching,
+anxious expression, as Clinton approached and paid the compliments of
+the morning with more than his wonted gracefulness of manner. He
+apologized for the freedom he had taken so sportively and naturally,
+that Helen felt it would be ridiculous in her to assume a resentment she
+did not feel, and yielding to her passionate admiration for flowers, she
+wreathed them again round her sun-bright locks.
+
+It was thus the trio approached the house. Mittie saw them from the
+window, and the keenest pang she had ever known penetrated her heart.
+She saw the beech tree shorn of its morning garland, that garland which
+was blooming triumphantly on her sister's brow. She saw Clinton walking
+by her side, calling up her smiles and blushes according to his own
+magnetic will.
+
+She accused Helen of deceit and guile. Her languor and illness the
+preceding evening was all assumed to heighten the blooming contrast of
+the present moment. Her morning ramble and meeting with Clinton were
+all premeditated, her seeming artlessness the darkest and deepest
+hypocrisy.
+
+For a few weeks Mittie had revelled in the joy of an awakened nature.
+She had reigned alone, with no counter influence to thwart the sudden
+and luxuriant growth of passion. She, alone, young, beautiful and
+attractive, had been the magnet to youth, beauty and attraction. She had
+been the centre of an island world of her own, which she had tried to
+keep as inaccessible to others as the granite coast in the Arabian
+Nights.
+
+Poor Mittie! The flower of passion has ever a dark spot on its petals, a
+dark, purple spot, not always perceptible in the first unfolding and
+glory of its bloom; but sooner or later it spreads and scorches, and
+shrivels up the heart of the blossom.
+
+She tried to control her excited feelings. She was proud, and had a
+conviction that she would degrade herself by the exhibition of jealousy
+and envy. She tried to call up a bloom to her pale cheek, and a smile to
+her quivering lip, but she was no adept in the art of dissimulation, and
+when she entered the sitting room, Helen was the first to notice her
+altered countenance. It was fortunate for all present that Alice had
+seated herself at the piano, at the solicitation of Louis, and commenced
+a brilliant overture.
+
+Alice had always loved music, but now that she had learned it as an art,
+in all its perfectness, it had become the one passion of her life. She
+lived in the world of sound, and forgot the midnight that surrounded
+her. It was impossible to look upon her without feeling the truth, that
+if God closes with Bastile bars one avenue of the senses, He opens
+another with widening gates "on golden hinges moving." Alice trembled
+with ecstacy at her own exquisite melody, like the nightingale whose
+soft plumage quivers on its breast as it sings. She would raise her
+sightless eyes to Heaven, following the upward strain with feelings of
+the most intense devotion. She called music the wind of the soul, the
+breath of God--and said if it had a color it must be _azure_.
+
+One by one they all gathered round the blind songstress. Arthur stood
+behind her, and Helen saw tears glistening in his eyes. She did not
+wonder at his emotion, for accustomed as she was to hear her, she never
+could hear Alice sing without feeling a desire to weep.
+
+"I feel so many wants," she said, "that I never had before."
+
+While Alice was singing, Helen stole softly behind Mittie, and gently
+put the flowers on her hair.
+
+"I have stolen your roses," she whispered, "but I do not mean to keep
+them."
+
+Mittie's first impulse was to toss them upon the floor, but something in
+the eye of Clinton arrested her. She dared not do it. And looking
+steadfastly downward, outblushed the roses on her brow.
+
+The cloud appeared to have passed away, and the family party that
+surrounded the breakfast table was a gay and happy one.
+
+"I told you," said Mr. Gleason, placing Helen beside him, and smiling
+affectionately on her gladsome countenance, "that we should have a very
+different looking girl this morning from our poor, little sick traveler.
+All Helen wants is the air of home to revive her. Who would want to see
+a more rustic looking lassie than she is now?"
+
+"I should like to see how Helen would look now in a yellow flannel
+robe," said Louis, mischievously, "and whether she will make as great a
+sensation on her entrance into society as she did when she burst into
+this room in such an impromptu manner?"
+
+The remembrance of the _yellow flannel robe_, and the eventful evening
+to which Louis alluded, was associated with the mother whom she had
+never ceased to mourn, and Helen bent her head to hide the tears which
+gathered into her eyes.
+
+"You are not angry, gentle sister?" said Louis, seeking her downcast
+face.
+
+"Helen was never angry in her life," cried her father, "it is her only
+fault that she has not anger enough in her nature for self-preservation."
+
+"Is that true, Helen?" asked the young doctor. "Has your father read
+your nature aright?"
+
+"No," answered Helen, looking up with an ingenuous smile. "I have felt
+very angry with you, and judged you very harshly several times. Yet I
+was most angry with myself for doing what you wished in spite of my
+vexation and rebellion."
+
+"Yet you believed me right all the time?"
+
+"I believe so. At least you always said so."
+
+Helen conversed with Arthur Hazleton with the same freedom and
+childishness as when an inmate of his mother's family. She was so
+completely a child, she could not think of herself as an object of
+importance in the social circle. She was inexpressibly grateful for
+kindness, and Arthur Hazleton's kindness had been so constant and so
+deep, she felt as if her gratitude should be commensurate with the gifts
+received. It was the moral interest he had manifested in her--the
+influence he exercised over her mind and heart which she most prized. He
+was a kind of second conscience to her, and it did not seem possible for
+her to do any thing which he openly disapproved.
+
+What Mittie could not understand was the playful, unembarrassed manner
+with which she met the graceful attentions of Clinton, after his
+fascinations had dispersed her natural shyness and reserve. She neither
+sought nor avoided him, flattered nor slighted him. She appeared neither
+dazzled nor charmed. Mittie thought this must be the most consummate
+art, when it was only the perfection of nature. Because the glass was so
+clear, so translucent, she imagined she was the victim of an optical
+illusion.
+
+There was another thing in Helen, which Mittie believed the most studied
+policy, and that was the affection and respect she manifested for her
+step-mother. Nothing could be sweeter or more endearing than the
+"mother!" which fell from her lips, whenever she addressed her--that
+name which, had never yet passed her own. Mittie had never sought the
+love of her step-mother. She had rejected it with scorn, and yet she
+envied Helen the caressing warmth and maternal tenderness which was the
+natural reward of her own loving nature.
+
+"Poor Miss Thusa!" exclaimed Helen, near the close of the day, "I must
+go and see her before the sun sets; I know, I am sure she will be glad
+to see me."
+
+"Supposing we go in a party," said Clinton. "I should like to pay my
+respects to the original old lady again."
+
+"I should think the rough reception she gave you, would preclude the
+desire for a second visit," said Mittie.
+
+"Oh! I like to conquer difficulties," he exclaimed. "The greater the
+obstacles, the greater the triumph."
+
+Perhaps he meant nothing more than met the ear, but Mittie's omnipotent
+self-love felt wounded. She had been too easy a conquest, whose value
+was already beginning to lessen.
+
+"Miss Thusa and Helen are such especial friends," she added, without
+seeming to have heard his remark, "that I should think their first
+meeting had better be private. I suspect Miss Thusa has manufactured a
+new set of ghost stories for Helen's peculiar benefit."
+
+"Are you a believer in ghosts?" asked Clinton of Helen. "If so, I envy
+you."
+
+"Envy me!"
+
+"Yes! There is such a pleasure in credulity. I sigh now over the
+vanished illusions of my boyhood."
+
+"I once believed in ghosts," replied Helen, "and even now, in solitude
+and darkness, the memories of childhood come back to me so powerfully,
+they are appalling. Miss Thusa might tell me a thousand stories now,
+without inspiring belief, while those told me in childhood can never be
+forgotten, or their impressions effaced."
+
+"Yet you like Miss Thusa, and seem to remember her with affection."
+
+"She was so kind to me that I could not help loving her--and she seemed
+so lonely, with so few to love her, it seemed cruel to shut up the heart
+against her."
+
+"One may be incredulous without being cruel, I should think," said
+Mittie, with asperity. She felt the reproach, and could not believe it
+accidental. Poor Mittie! how much she suffered.
+
+Helen, who was really desirous of seeing Miss Thusa, and did not wish
+for the companionship of Clinton, stole away from the rest and took the
+path she well remembered, through the woods. The excessive hilarity of
+the morning had faded from her spirits. There was something
+indescribable about Mittie that annoyed and pained her. The gleam of
+kindness with which she had greeted her had all gone out, and left
+dullness and darkness in its stead. She could not get near her heart. At
+every avenue it seemed closed against her, and resisted the golden key
+of affection as effectually as the wrench of violence.
+
+"She must love me," thought Helen, pursuing her way towards Miss
+Thusa's, and picking up here and there a yellow leaf that came
+fluttering down at her feet. "I cannot live in coldness and estrangement
+with one I ought to love so dearly. It must be some fault of mine; I
+must discover what it is, and if it he my right eye, I would willingly
+pluck it out to secure her affection. Alice is going home, and how worse
+than lonely will I be!"
+
+Helen caught a glimpse of the stream where, when a child, she used to
+wade in the wimpling waters, and gather the diamond mica that sparkled
+on the sand. She thought of the time when the young doctor had washed
+the strawberry stains from her face, and wiped it with his nice linen
+handkerchief, and her heart glowed at the remembrance of his kindness.
+Mingled with this glow there was the flush of shame, for she could not
+help starting at every sudden rustling sound, thinking the coiling snake
+was lurking in ambush.
+
+There was an air of desolation about Miss Thusa's cabin, which she had
+never noticed before. The stepping-stones of the door looked so much
+like grave-stones, so damp and mossy, it seemed sacrilege to tread upon
+them. Helen hardly did touch them, she skipped so lightly over the
+threshold, and stood before Miss Thusa smiling and out of breath.
+
+There she sat at her wheel, solemn and ancestral, and gray as ever, her
+foot upon the treadle, her hand upon the distaff, looking so much like a
+fixture of the place, it seemed strange not to see the moss growing
+green and damp on her stone-colored garments.
+
+"Miss Thusa!" exclaimed Helen, and the aged spinster started at the
+sound of that sweet, childish voice. Helen's arms were around her neck
+in a moment, and without knowing why, she burst into an unexpected fit
+of weeping.
+
+"I am so foolish," said Helen, after she had dashed away her tears, and
+squeezed herself into a little seat between Miss Thusa and her wheel,
+"but I am so glad to get home, so glad to see you all once more."
+
+Miss Thusa's iron nerves seemed quite unstrung by the unexpected delight
+of greeting her favorite child. She had not heard of her return, and
+could scarcely realize her presence. She kept wiping her glasses,
+without seeming conscious that the moisture was in her own eyes, gazed
+on Helen's upturned face with indescribable tenderness, smoothed back
+her golden brown hair, and then stooping down, kissed, with an air of
+benediction, her fair young brow.
+
+"You have not forgotten me, then! You are still nothing but a child,
+nothing but little Helen. And yet you are grown--and you look healthier
+and rounder, and a shade more womanly. You are not as handsome as
+Mittie, and yet where one stops to look at her, ten will turn to gaze on
+you."
+
+"Oh, no! Mittie is grown so beautiful no one could think of any one else
+when she is near."
+
+"The young man with the long black hair thinks her beautiful? Does he
+not?"
+
+"I believe so. Who could help it?"
+
+"Does she love you better than she used to?" asked Miss Thusa.
+
+"I will try to deserve her love," replied Helen, evasively; "but, Miss
+Thusa, I am coming every day to take spinning lessons of you. I really
+want to learn to spin. Perhaps father may fail one of these days, and I
+be thrown on my own resources, and then I could earn my living as you do
+now. Will you bequeath me your wheel, Miss Thusa?"
+
+The bright smile with which she looked up to Miss Thusa, died away in a
+kind of awe, as she met the solemn earnestness of her glance.
+
+"Yes, yes, child, I have long intended it as a legacy of love to you.
+There is a history hanging to it, which I will tell you by and by. For
+more than forty years that wheel and I have been companions and friends,
+and it is so much a part of myself, that if any one should cut into the
+old carved wood, I verily believe the blood-drops would drip from my
+heart. Things will grow together, powerfully, Helen, after a long, long
+time. And so you want to learn to spin, child. Well! suppose you sit
+down and try. These little white fingers will soon be cut by the flax,
+though, I can tell you."
+
+"May I, Miss Thusa, may I?" cried Helen, seating herself with childish
+delight at the venerable instrument, and giving it a whirl that might
+have made the flax smoke. Miss Thusa looked on with a benevolent and
+patronizing air, while Helen pressed her foot upon the treadle,
+wondering why it would jerk so, when it went round with Miss Thusa so
+smoothly, and pulled out the flax at arm's length, wondering why it
+would run into knots and bunches, when it glided so smooth and even
+through Miss Thusa's practiced fingers. Helen was so busy, and so
+excited by the new employment, she did not perceive a shadow cross the
+window, nor was she aware of the approach of any one, till an unusually
+gay laugh made her turn her head.
+
+"I thought Miss Thusa looked wonderfully rejuvenated," said Arthur
+Hazleton, leaning against the window-frame on the outside of the
+building, "but methinks she is the more graceful spinner, after all."
+
+"This is only my first lesson," cried Helen, jumping up, for the band
+had slipped from the groove, and hung in a hopeless tangle--"and I fear
+Miss Thusa will never be willing to give me another."
+
+"Ten thousand, child, if you will take them," cried Miss Thusa,
+good-naturedly, repairing the mischief her pupil had done.
+
+"Do you know the sun is down?" asked Arthur, "and that your path lies
+through the woods?"
+
+Helen started, and for the first time became aware that the shadows of
+twilight were deepening on the landscape. She did not think Arthur
+Hazleton would accompany her home. He would test her courage as he had
+done before, and taking a hurried leave of Miss Thusa, promising to stay
+and hear many a legend next time, she jumped over the stile before
+Arthur could overtake her and assist her steps.
+
+"Would you prefer walking alone?" said Arthur, "or will you accept of my
+escort?"
+
+"I did not think you intended coming with me," said Helen, "or I would
+have waited."
+
+"You thought me as rude and barbarous as ever."
+
+"Perhaps you think me as foolish and timid as ever."
+
+"You have become courageous and fearless then--I congratulate you--I
+told you that you would one day be a heroine."
+
+"That day will never come," said Helen, blushing. "My fears are
+hydras--as fast as one is destroyed another is born. Shadows will always
+be peopled with phantoms, and darkness is to me the shadow of the
+grave."
+
+"I am sorry to hear you say so, Helen," said the young doctor, taking
+her hand, and leading her along the shadowy path, "and yet you feel safe
+with me. You fear not when I am with you."
+
+"Oh, no!" exclaimed Helen, involuntarily drawing nearer to him--"I never
+fear in your presence. Midnight would seem noonday, and all phantoms
+flee away."
+
+"And yet, Helen," he cried, "you have a friend always near, stronger to
+protect than legions of angels can be. Do you realize this truth?"
+
+"I trust, I believe I do," answered Helen, looking upward into the dome
+of darkening blue that seemed resting upon the tall, dark pillars of the
+woods. "I sometimes think if I were really exposed to a great danger, I
+could brave it without shrinking--or if danger impended over one I
+loved, I should forget all selfish apprehensions. Try not to judge me
+too severely--and I will do my best to correct the faults of my
+childhood."
+
+They walked on in silence a few moments, for there was something hushing
+in the soft murmurs of the branches, something like the distant roaring
+of the ocean surge.
+
+"I must take Alice home to-morrow," said he, at length; "her mother
+longs to behold her. I wish you were going with her. I fear you will not
+be happy here."
+
+"I cannot leave my father," said Helen, sadly, "and if I can only keep
+out of the way of other people's happiness, I will try to be content."
+
+"May I speak to you freely, Helen, as I did several years ago? May I
+counsel you as a friend--guide you as a brother still?"
+
+"It is all that I wished--more than I dared to ask. I only fear that I
+shall give you too much trouble."
+
+There was a gray, old rock by the way-side, that looked exactly as if it
+belonged to Miss Thusa's establishment. Arthur Hazleton seated Helen
+there, and threw himself on the moss at her feet.
+
+"I am going away to-morrow," said he, "and I feel as if I had much to
+say. I leave you exposed to temptation; and to put you on your guard, I
+must say perhaps what you will think unauthorized. You know so little of
+the world--are so guileless and unsuspecting--I cannot bear to alarm
+your simplicity; and yet, Helen, you cannot always remain a child."
+
+"Oh, I wish I could," she exclaimed; "I cannot bear the thought of being
+otherwise. As long as I am a child, I shall be caressed, cherished, and
+forgiven for all my faults. I never shall be able to act on my own
+responsibility--never."
+
+"But, Helen, you have attained the stature of womanhood. You are looked
+upon as a candidate for admiration--as the rival of your beautiful
+sister. You will be flattered and courted, not as a child, but as a
+woman. The young man who has become, as it were, domesticated in your
+family, has extraordinary personal attractions, and every member of the
+household appears to have yielded to his influence. Were I as sure of
+his moral worth as of his outward graces, I would not say what I have
+done. But, with one doubt on my mind, as your early friend, as the
+self-elected guardian of your happiness, I cannot forbear to caution, to
+admonish, perhaps to displease, by my too watchful, too officious
+friendship."
+
+Arthur paused. His voice had become agitated and his manner excited.
+
+"You cannot believe me capable of the meanness of envy," he added. "Were
+Bryant Clinton less handsome, less fascinating, his sincerity and truth
+might be a question of less moment."
+
+"How could you envy any one," cried Helen, earnestly, unconscious how
+much her words and manner expressed. "Displeased! Oh! I thank you so
+much. But indeed I do not admire Mr. Bryant Clinton at all. He is
+entirely too handsome and dazzling. I do not like that long, curling,
+shining hair of his. The first time I saw him, it reminded me of the
+undulations of that terrible snake in the strawberry patch, and I cannot
+get over the association. Then he does not admire me at all, only as the
+sister of Mittie."
+
+"He has paid Mittie very great and peculiar attention, and people look
+upon them as betrothed lovers. Were you to become an object of jealousy
+to her, you would be very, very unhappy. The pleasure of gratified
+vanity would be faint to the stings exasperated and wounded love could
+inflict."
+
+"For all the universe could offer I would not be my sister's rival,"
+cried Helen, rising impetuously, and looking round her with a wild
+startled expression. "I will go and tell her so at once. I will ask her
+to confide in me and trust me. I will go away if she wishes it. If my
+father is willing, I will live with Miss Thusa in the wild woods."
+
+"Wait awhile," said Arthur, smiling at her vehemence, "wait Helen,
+patiently, firmly. When temptations arise, it is time to resist. I fear
+I have done wrong in giving premature warning, but the impulse was
+irresistible, in the silence of these twilight woods."
+
+Helen looked up through the soft shadows to thank him again for his
+counsels, and promise that they should be the guide of her life, but the
+words died on her lips. There was something so darkly penetrating in the
+expression of his countenance, so earnest, yet troubled, so opposite to
+its usual serene gravity, that it infected her. Her heart beat
+violently, and for the first time in her life she felt embarrassed in
+his presence.
+
+That night Helen pressed a wakeful pillow. She felt many years older
+than when she rose in the morning, for the experience of the day had
+been so oppressive. She could not realize that she had thought and felt
+and learned so much in twelve short hours.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+    "All other passions have their hour of thinking,
+    And hear the voice of reason. This alone
+    Breaks at the first suspicion into frenzy,
+    And sweeps the soul in tempests."--_Shakspeare._
+
+
+The day that Alice left, Helen felt very sad and lonely, but she
+struggled with her feelings, and busied herself as much as possible with
+the household arrangements. Mrs. Gleason took her into the chamber which
+Mittie had been occupying alone, and showed her every thing that had
+been prepared for her accommodation as well as her sister's. Helen was
+unbounded in her gratitude, and thought the room a paradise, with its
+nice curtains, tasteful furniture and airy structure.
+
+When night came on, Helen retired early to her chamber, leaving Mittie
+with Clinton. She left the light burning on the hearth, for the memory
+of the lonely spinster, invoking by her song the horrible being, who
+descended, piece-meal, down the chimney, had not died away. That was the
+very chamber in which Miss Thusa used to spin, and recite her dreadful
+tales, and Helen remembered them all. It had been papered, and painted,
+and renewed, but the chimney was the same, and the shadows rested there
+as darkly as ever.
+
+When Mittie entered the room, Helen was already in that luxurious state
+between sleeping and waking, which admits of the consciousness of
+enjoyment, without its responsibility. She was reclining on the bed,
+shaded by the muslin curtains, with such an expression of innocence and
+peace on her countenance, it was astonishing how any one could have
+marred the tranquillity of her repose.
+
+The entrance of her sister partially roused her, and the glare of the
+lamp upon her face completely awakened her.
+
+"Oh! sister!" she cried, "I am so glad you have come. It is so long
+since we have slept together. I have been thinking how happy we can be,
+where so much has been done for our comfort and luxury."
+
+"You can enjoy all the luxuries yourself," said Mittie, "and be welcome
+to them all. I am going to sleep in the next room, for I prefer being
+alone, as I have been before."
+
+"Oh! Mittie, you are not going to leave me alone; you will not, surely,
+be so unkind?"
+
+"I wonder if I were not left alone, while Alice was with you, and I
+wonder if I complained of unkindness!"
+
+"But _you_ did not care. You are not dependent on others. I am sure if
+you had asked me, I would have spread a pallet on the floor, rather than
+have left you alone."
+
+"Helen, you are too old now to be such a baby," said Mittie,
+impatiently; "it is time you were cured of your foolish fears of being
+alone. You make yourself perfectly ridiculous by such nonsense."
+
+She busied herself gathering her night-clothes as she spoke, and took
+the lamp from the table.
+
+Helen sprang from the bed, and stood between Mittie and the door.
+
+"No," said she, "if we must separate, I will go. You need not leave the
+chamber which has so long been yours. I do dread being alone, but alas!
+I must be lonely wherever I am, unless I have a heart to lean upon. Oh!
+Mittie, if you knew how I _could_ love you, you would let me throw my
+arms around you, and find a pillow on your sisterly breast."
+
+She looked pleadingly, wistfully at Mittie, while tears glittered in her
+soft, earnest eyes.
+
+"Foolish, foolish child!" cried Mittie, setting down the lamp
+petulantly, and tossing her night-dress on the bed--"stay where you are,
+but do not inflict too much sentiment on me--you know I never liked it."
+
+"No," said Helen, thoughtfully, "I might disturb you, and perhaps if I
+once conquer my timidity, I shall be victor for life. I should like to
+make the trial, and I may as well begin to-night as any time. I do not
+wish to be troublesome, or intrude my company on any one."
+
+Helen's gentle spirit was roused by the arbitrary manner in which Mittie
+had treated her, and she found courage to act as her better judgment
+approved. She was sorry she had pleaded so earnestly for what she might
+have claimed as a right, and resolved to leave her sister to the
+solitude she so much coveted.
+
+With a low, but cold "good night," she glided from the apartment, closed
+the door, passed through the passage, entered a lonely chamber, and
+kneeling down by the bedside, prayed to be delivered from the bondage of
+fear, and the haunting phantoms of her own imagination. When she laid
+her head upon the pillow, she felt strong in the resolution she had
+exercised, glad that she had dared to resist her own weak, irresolute
+heart. She drew aside the window curtains and let the stars shine down
+brightly on her face. How could she feel alone, with such a glorious
+company all round and about her? How could she fear, when so many
+radiant lamps were lighted to disperse the darkness? Gradually the quick
+beating of her heart subsided, the moistened lashes shut down over her
+dazzled eyes, and she slept quietly till the breaking of morn. When she
+awoke, and recalled the struggles she had gone through, she rejoiced at
+the conquest she had obtained over herself. She was sure if Arthur
+Hazleton knew it, he would approve of her conduct, and she was glad that
+she cherished no vindictive feelings towards Mittie.
+
+"She certainly has a right to her preferences," she said; "if she likes
+solitude, I ought not to blame her for seeking it, and I dare say my
+company is dull and insipid to her. I must have seemed weak and foolish
+to her, she who never knew what fear or weakness is."
+
+As she was leaving her room, with many a vivid resolution to conquer her
+besetting weaknesses, her step-mother entered, unconscious that the
+chamber had an occupant. She looked around with surprise, and Helen
+feared, with displeasure.
+
+"Mittie preferred sleeping alone," she hastened to say, "and I thought
+she had a prior right to the other apartment."
+
+"Selfish, selfish to the heart's core!" ejaculated Mrs. Gleason. "But,
+my dear child, I cannot allow you to be the victim of an arbitrary will.
+The more you yield, the more concessions will be required. You know
+not, dream not, of Mittie's imperious and exacting nature."
+
+"I begin to believe, dear mother, that the discipline we most need, we
+receive. I did feel very unhappy last night, and when I entered this
+room, the dread of remaining all alone, in darkness and silence, almost
+stopped the beatings of my heart. It was the first time I ever passed a
+night without some companion, for every one has indulged my weakness,
+which they believed constitutional. But after the first few moments--a
+sense of God's presence and protection, of the guardianship of angels,
+of the nearness of Heaven, hushed all my fears, and filled me with a
+kind of divine tranquillity. Oh! mother, I feel so much better this
+morning for the trial, that I thank Mittie for having cast me, as it
+were, on the bosom of God."
+
+"With such a spirit, Helen," said her step-mother, tenderly embracing
+her, "you will be able to meet whatever trials the discipline of your
+life may need. Self-reliance and God-reliance are the two great
+principles that must sustain us. We must do our duty, and leave the
+result to Providence. And, believe me, Helen, it is a species of
+ingratitude to suffer ourselves to be made unhappy by the faults of
+others, for which we are not responsible, when blessings are clustering
+richly round us."
+
+Helen felt strengthened by the affectionate counsels of her step-mother,
+and did not allow the cloud on Mittie's brow to dim the sunshine of
+hers. Mindful of the warnings of the young doctor, she avoided Clinton
+as much as possible, whose deep blue eyes with their long sable lashes
+often rested on her with an expression she could not define, and which
+she shrunk from meeting. True to her promise she visited Miss Thusa once
+a day, and took her spinning lessons, till she could turn the wheel like
+a fairy, and manufacture thread as smooth and silky as her venerable
+teacher. She insisted on bleaching it also, and flew about among the
+long grass, with her bright watering pot, like a living flower sprung up
+in the wilderness.
+
+She was returning one evening from the cabin at a rather later hour than
+usual, for she was becoming more and more courageous, and could walk
+through the woods without starting at every sound. The trees were now
+beginning to assume the magnificent hues of autumn, and glowed with
+mingled scarlet, orange, emerald, and purple. There was such a
+brightness, such a glory in these variegated dyes, that they took away
+all impression of loneliness, and the crumpling of the dry, yellow
+leaves in the path had a sociable, pleasant sound. She hoped Arthur
+Hazleton would return before this jewelry of the woods had faded away,
+that she might walk with him through their gorgeous foliage, and hear
+from his lips the deep moral of the waning season. She reached the gray
+rock where Arthur had seated her, and sitting down on a thick cushion of
+fallen leaves, she remembered every word he had said to her the evening
+before his departure.
+
+"Why are you sitting so mute and lonely here, fair Helen?" said a
+musical voice close to her ear, and Clinton suddenly came and took a
+seat by her side. Helen felt embarrassed by his unexpected presence, and
+wished that she could free herself from it without rudeness.
+
+"I am gazing on the beauty of the autumnal woods," she replied, her
+cheeks glowing like the scarlet maple leaves.
+
+"I should think such contemplation better fitted one less young and
+bright and fair," said Clinton. "Miss Thusa, for instance, in her
+time-gray home.
+
+"I am sure nothing can be brighter or more glorious than these colors,"
+said Helen, making a motion to rise. It seemed to her she could see the
+black eyes of Mittie gleaming at her through the rustling foliage.
+
+"Do not go yet," said Clinton. "This is such a sweet, quiet hour--and it
+is the first time I have seen you alone since the morning after your
+arrival. What have I done that you shun me as an enemy, and refuse me
+the slightest token of confidence and regard?"
+
+"I am not conscious of showing such great avoidance," said Helen, more
+and more embarrassed. "I am so much of a stranger, and it seemed so
+natural that you should prefer the society of Mittie, I considered my
+absence a favor to both."
+
+"Till you came," he replied, in a low, persuasive accent, "I did find a
+charm in her society unknown before, but now I feel every thought and
+feeling and hope turned into a new channel. Even before you came, I
+felt you were to be my destiny. Stay, Helen, you shall not leave me till
+I have told you what my single heart is too narrow to contain."
+
+"Let me go," cried Helen, struggling to release the hand which he had
+taken, and springing from her rocky seat. "It is not right to talk to me
+in this manner, and I will not hear you. It is false to Mittie, and
+insulting to me."
+
+"I should be false to Mittie should I pretend to love her now, when my
+whole heart and soul are yours," exclaimed the young man, vehemently. "I
+can no more resist the impulse that draws me to you, than I can stay the
+beatings of this wildly throbbing heart. Love, Helen, cannot be forced,
+neither can it be restrained."
+
+"I know nothing of love," cried Helen, pressing on her homeward path,
+with a terror she dared not betray, "nor do I wish to know--but one
+thing I do know--I feel nothing but dread in your presence. You make me
+wretched and miserable. I am sure if you have the feelings of a
+gentleman you will leave me after telling you this."
+
+"The more you urge me to flee, the more firmly am I rooted to your side.
+You do not know your own heart, Helen. You are so young and guileless.
+It is not dread of me, but your sister's displeasure that makes you
+tremble with fear. You cannot fear me, Helen--you _must_, you _will_,
+you _shall_ love me."
+
+Helen was now wrought up to a pitch of excitement and terror that was
+perfectly uncontrollable. Every word uttered by Clinton seemed burned
+in--on her brain, not her heart, and she pressed both hands on her
+forehead, as if to put out the flame.
+
+"Oh! that Arthur Hazleton were here," she exclaimed, "he would protect
+me."
+
+"No danger shall reach you while I am near you, Helen," cried Clinton,
+again endeavoring to take her hand in his--but Helen darted into a side
+path and ran as fleetly and wildly as when she believed the glittering,
+fiery-eyed viper was pursuing her. Sometimes she caught hold of the
+slender trunk of a tree to give her a quicker momentum, and sometimes
+she sprang over brooklets, which, in a calmer moment, she would have
+deemed impossible. She felt that Clinton had slackened his pursuit as
+she drew near her home, but she never paused till she found herself in
+her own chamber, where, sinking into a chair, she burst into a passion
+of tears such as she had never wept before. Shame, dread, resentment,
+fear--all pressed so crushingly upon her, her soul was bowed even to the
+dust. The future lowered so darkly before her. Mittie--she could not
+help looking upon her as a kind of avenging spirit--that would forever
+haunt her.
+
+While she was in this state of ungovernable emotion, Mittie came in,
+with a face as white and rigid as marble, and stood directly in front of
+her.
+
+"Why have you fled from Clinton so?" she cried, in a strange, harsh
+tone. "Tell me, for I will know. Tell me, for I have a right to know."
+
+Helen tried to speak, but her breathless lips sought in vain to utter a
+sound. There was a bright, red spot in the centre of both cheeks, but
+the rest of her face was as colorless as Mittie's.
+
+"Speak," cried Mittie, stamping her foot, with an imperious gesture,
+"and tell me the truth, or you had better never have been born."
+
+"Ask me nothing," she said at length, recovering breath to answer, "for
+the truth will only make you wretched."
+
+"What has he said to you?" repeated Mittie, seizing the arm of Helen
+with a force of which she was not aware. "Have you dared to let him talk
+to you about love?"
+
+"Alas! I want not his love. I believe him not," cried Helen; "and, oh!
+Mittie, trust him not. Think of him no more. He does not love you--is
+not worthy of you."
+
+Mittie tossed Helen's arm from her with a violence that made her writhe
+with pain--while her eyes flashed with the bale-fires of passion.
+
+"How dare you tell me such a falsehood?" she exclaimed, "you little,
+artful, consummate hypocrite. He never told you this. You have been
+trying to supplant me from the moment of your arrival, trying to make
+yourself appear a victim, a saint--a martyr to a sister's jealous and
+exciting temper. I have seen it all. I have watched the whole, day after
+day. I have seen you stealing off to Miss Thusa's--pretending to love
+that horrible old woman--only that you might have clandestine meetings
+with Clinton. And now you are seeking to shake my confidence in his
+faith and truth, that you may alienate him more completely from me."
+
+"Oh! Mittie--don't," cried Helen, "don't for Heaven's sake, talk so
+dreadfully. You don't mean what you say. You don't know what you are
+doing."
+
+"I tell you I do know--and you shall know to your cost, you little wolf
+in lamb's clothing," cried Mittie, growing more and more frantic as she
+yielded to the violence of her passions. "It was not enough, was it, to
+wind yourself round the young doctor with your subtle, childish ways,
+till you have made a fool of him with all his wisdom, treating him with
+a forwardness and familiarity that ought to make you blush at the
+remembrance--but you must come between me and the only being this side
+of Heaven I ever cared for? Take care of yourself; get out of my way,
+for I am growing mad. The sight of you makes me a maniac."
+
+Helen was indeed terrified at an exhibition of temper so unparalleled.
+She rose, though her limbs trembled so she could scarcely walk, and took
+two or three steps towards the door.
+
+"Where are you going?" exclaimed Mittie.
+
+"You told me to leave you," said Helen, faintly, "and indeed I cannot
+stay--I ought not to stay, and hear such false and cruel things. I will
+not stay," she exclaimed, with a sudden and startling flash of
+indignation; "I will not stay to be so insulted and trampled on. Let me
+pass."
+
+"You shall not go to Clinton."
+
+"Let me pass, I say," cried Helen, with a wild vehemence, that
+contrasted fearfully with her usual gentleness. "I am afraid of you,
+with such daggers in your tongue."
+
+She rushed passed Mittie, flew down stairs, into the sitting room, in
+the presence of her father, step-mother, and Clinton, who was sitting as
+if perfectly unconscious of the tempest he had roused.
+
+"Father, father," she exclaimed, throwing herself into his arms. "Oh,
+father."
+
+Nothing could be more startling than her appearance. The bright spot on
+her cheek was now deepened to purple, and her eyes had a strange,
+feverish lustre.
+
+"Why, what is the meaning of this?" cried Mr. Gleason, turning in alarm
+to his wife.
+
+"Something must have terrified her--only feel of her hands, they are as
+cold as ice; and look at her cheeks."
+
+"She seems ill, very ill," observed Clinton, rising, much agitated;
+"shall I go for a physician?"
+
+"I fear Doctor Hazleton is not yet returned," said Mrs. Gleason,
+anxiously. "I think she is indeed ill--alarmingly so."
+
+"No, no," cried Helen, clinging closer to her father, "don't send for
+Doctor Hazleton--anybody in the world but him. I cannot see him."
+
+"How strange," exclaimed Mr. Gleason, "she must be getting delirious.
+You had better carry her up stairs," added he, turning to his wife, "and
+do something to relieve her, while I go for some medical advice. She is
+subject to sudden nervous attacks."
+
+"No, no," cried Helen, still more vehemently, "don't take me up stairs;
+I cannot go back; it would kill me. Only let me stay with you."
+
+Mr. Gleason, who well remembered the terrible fright Helen had suffered
+in her childhood--her fainting over her mother's corpse--her
+imprisonment in the lonely school-house--believed that she had received
+some sudden shock inflicted by a phantom of her own imagination. Her
+frantic opposition to being taken up stairs confirmed this belief, and
+he insisted on his wife's conveying her to her own room and giving her
+an anodyne. Clinton felt as if his presence must be intrusive, and left
+the room--but he divined the cause of Helen's strange emotion. He heard
+a quick, passionate tread overhead, and he well knew what the
+lion-strength of Mittie's unchained passions must be.
+
+Mrs. Gleason, too, had her suspicions of the truth, having seen Helen's
+homeward flight, and heard the voice of Mittie soon afterwards in loud
+and angry tones. She besought her husband to leave her to her care,
+assuring him that all she needed was perfect quietude. For more than an
+hour Mrs. Gleason sat by the side of Helen, holding her hands in one of
+hers, while she bathed with the other her throbbing temples. Gradually
+the deep, purple flush faded to a pale hue, and her eyes gently closed.
+The step-mother thought she slept, and darkened the window--so that the
+rays of the young moon could not glimmer through the casement. Mrs.
+Gleason looked upon Helen with anguish, seeing before her so much misery
+in consequence of her sister's jealous and irascible temper. She sighed
+for the departure of Clinton, whose coming had roused Mittie to such
+terrible life, and whose fascinations might be deadly to the peace of
+Helen. She could see no remedy to the evils which every day might
+increase--for she knew by long experience the indomitable nature of
+Mittie's temper.
+
+"Mother," said Helen, softly, opening her eyes, "I do not sleep, but I
+rest, and it is so sweet--I feel as if I had been out in a terrible
+storm--so shattered and so bruised within. Oh! mother, you cannot think
+of the shameful accusations she has brought against me. It makes me
+shudder to think of them. I shall never, never be happy again. They will
+always be ringing in my ears--always blistering and burning me."
+
+"You should not think her words of such consequence," said Mrs. Gleason,
+soothingly; "nothing she can say can soil the purity of your nature, or
+alienate the affections of your friends. She is a most unhappy girl,
+doomed, I fear, to be the curse of this otherwise happy household."
+
+"I cannot live so," cried Helen, clasping her hands entreatingly, "I
+would rather die than live in such strife and shame. It makes me wicked
+and passionate. I cannot help feeling hatred rising in my bosom, and
+then I loathe myself in dust and ashes. Oh! let me go somewhere, where I
+may be at peace--anywhere in the world where I shall be in nobody's way.
+Ask father to send me back to school--I am young enough, and shall be
+years yet; or I should like to go into a nunnery, that must be such a
+peaceful place. No stormy passions--no dark, bosom strife."
+
+"No, my dear, we are not going to give up you, the joy and idol of our
+hearts. You shall not be the sacrifice; I will shield you henceforth
+from the violence of this lawless girl. Tell me all the events of this
+evening, Helen, without reserve. Let there be perfect confidence between
+us, or we are all lost."
+
+Then Helen, though with many a painful and burning blush, told of her
+interview with Clinton, and all of which Mittie had so frantically
+accused her.
+
+"When I rushed down stairs, I did not know what I was doing--my brain
+seemed on fire, and I thought my reason was gone. If I could find a
+place of shelter from her wrath, a spot where her eye could not blaze
+upon me! that was my only thought."
+
+"Oh! that this dangerous, and I fear, unprincipled young man had never
+entered our household!" cried Mrs. Gleason; "and yet I would not judge
+him too harshly. Mittie's admiration, from the first, was only too
+manifest, and he must have seen before you arrived, the extraordinary
+defects of her temper. That he should prefer you, after having seen and
+known you, seems so natural, I cannot help pitying, while I blame him.
+If it were possible to accelerate his departure--I must consult with Mr.
+Gleason, for something must be done to restore the lost peace of the
+family."
+
+"Let me go, dear mother, and all may yet be well."
+
+"If you would indeed like to visit the Parsonage, and remain till this
+dark storm subsides, it might perhaps be judicious."
+
+"Not the Parsonage--never, never again shall I be embosomed in its
+hallowed shades--I would not go there now, for ten thousand worlds."
+
+"It is wrong, Helen, to allow the words of one, insane with passion, to
+have the least influence on the feelings or conduct. Mrs. Hazleton,
+Arthur, and Alice, have been your best and truest friends, and you must
+not allow yourself to be alienated from them."
+
+Helen closed her eyes to hide the tears that gathered on their surface,
+and it was not long before she sunk into a deep sleep. She had indeed
+received a terrible shock, and one from which her nerves would long
+vibrate.
+
+The first time a young girl listens to the language of love, even if it
+steals into her heart gently and soothingly as the sweet south wind,
+wakening the sleeping fragrance of a thousand bosom flowers, every
+feeling flutters and trembles like the leaves of the mimosa, and recoils
+from the slightest contact. But when she is forced suddenly and rudely
+to hear the accents of passion, with which she associates the idea of
+guilt, and treachery, and shame, she feels as if some robber had broken
+into the temple consecrated to the purest, most innocent emotions, and
+stolen the golden treasures hidden there. This alone was sufficient to
+wound and terrify the young and sensitive Helen, but when her sister
+assailed her with such a temper of wrathful accusations, accusations so
+shameful and degrading, it is not strange that she was wrought up to the
+state of partial frenzy which led her to rush to a father's bosom for
+safety and repose.
+
+And where was Mittie, the unhappy victim of her own wild, ungovernable
+passion?
+
+She remained in her room with her door locked, seated at the window,
+looking out into the darkness, which was illuminated by the rays of a
+waxing moon. She could see the white bark of the beech tree, conspicuous
+among the other trees, and knowing the spot where the letters were
+carved, she imagined she could trace them all, and that they were the
+scarlet color of blood.
+
+She had no light in her room, but feeling in her writing desk for the
+pen-knife, she stole down stairs the back way and took the path she had
+so often walked with Clinton. She was obliged to pass the room where
+Helen lay, and glancing in at the window when the curtain fluttered, she
+could see her pale, sad-looking face, and she did not like to look
+again. She knew she had wronged her, for the moment she had given
+utterance to her railing words, conscience told her they were false.
+This conviction, however, did not lessen the rancor and bitterness of
+her feelings. Hurrying on, she paused in front of the beech tree, and
+the cyphers glared Upon her as if seen through a magnifying glass--they
+looked so large and fiery. Opening her pen-knife, she smiled as a
+moonbeam glared on its keen, blue edge. Had any one seen the expression
+of her features, as she gazed at that shining, open blade, they would
+have shuddered, and trembled for her purpose.
+
+With a quick, hurried motion, she began to cut the bark from round the
+letters, till they seemed to melt away into one large cavity. She knew
+that some one was coming behind her, and she knew, too, by a kind of
+intuition, that it was Clinton, but she did not pause in her work of
+destruction.
+
+"Mittie! what are you doing?" he exclaimed. "Good Heavens!--give me that
+knife."
+
+As she threw up her right hand to elude his grasp, she saw the blood
+streaming from her fingers. She was not aware that she had cut herself.
+She suffered no pain. She gazed with pleasure on the flowing blood.
+
+"Let me bind my handkerchief round the wound," said Clinton, in a
+gentle, sympathizing voice. "You are really enough to drive one
+frantic."
+
+"_Your_ handkerchief!" she exclaimed, in an accent of ineffable scorn.
+"I would put a bandage of fire round it as soon. _Drive one frantic!_ I
+suppose your conduct must make one very calm, very cool and reasonable.
+But I can tell you, Bryant Clinton, that when you made me the plaything
+of your selfish and changing passions, you began a dangerous game. You
+thought me, perchance, a love-sick maiden, whose heart would break in
+silence and darkness, but you know me not. I will not suffer alone. If I
+sink into an abyss of wretchedness, it shall not be alone. I will drag
+down with me all who have part or lot in my misery and despair."
+
+Clinton's eye quailed before the dark, passionate glance riveted upon
+him. The moon gave only a pale, doubtful lustre, and its reflection on
+her face was like the night-light on deep waters--a dark, quivering
+brightness, giving one an idea of beauty and splendor and danger. Her
+hair was loose and hung around her in black, massy folds, imparting an
+air of wild, tragic majesty to her figure. Twisting one of the sable
+tresses round her bleeding fingers, she pressed them against her heart.
+
+"Mittie," said Clinton. There was something remarkable in the voice of
+Clinton. Its lowest tones, and they were exceedingly low, were as
+distinct and clear as the notes of the most exquisitely tuned
+instrument. "Mittie! why have you wrought yourself up to this terrible
+pitch of passion? Yet why do I ask? I know but too well. I uttered a few
+words of gallant seeming to your young sister, which sent her flying
+like a startled deer through the woods. Your reproaches completed the
+work my folly began. Between us both we have frightened the poor child
+almost into spasms. Verily we have been much to blame."
+
+"Deceiver! you told her that you loved me no more. Deny it if you can."
+
+"I will neither assert nor deny any thing. If you have not sufficient
+confidence in my honor, and reliance on my truth to trust and believe
+me, my only answer to your reproaches shall be silence. Light indeed
+must be my hold on your heart, if a breath has power to shake it. The
+time has been--but, alas!--how sadly are you changed!"
+
+"I changed!" repeated she. "Would to Heaven I could change!"
+
+"Yes, changed. Be not angry, but hear me. Where is the softness, the
+womanly tenderness and grace that first enchanted me, forming as it did
+so bewitching a contrast with the dazzling splendor of your beauty? I
+did not know then that daggers were sheathed in your brilliant eyes, or
+that scorn lurked in those beautiful lips. Nay, interrupt me not. Where,
+I say, is the loving, trusting being I loved and adored? You watch me
+with the vigilance of hatred, the intensity of revenge. Every word and
+look have been misconstrued, every action warped and perverted by
+prejudice and passion. You are jealous, frantically jealous of a mere
+child, with whom I idly amused myself one passing moment. You have made
+your parents look coldly and suspiciously upon me. You have taught me a
+bitter lesson."
+
+Every drop of blood forsook the cheeks of Mittie. She felt as if she
+were congealing--so cold fell the words of Clinton on her burning heart.
+
+"Then I have forever estranged you. You love me no longer!" said she, in
+a faint, husky voice.
+
+"No, Mittie, I love you still. Constancy is one of the elements of my
+nature. But love no longer imparts happiness. The chain of gold is
+transformed to iron, and the links corrode and lacerate the heart. I
+feel that I have cast a cloud over the household, and it is necessary to
+depart. I go to-morrow, and may you recover that peace of which I have
+momentarily deprived you. I shall pass away from your memory like the
+pebble that ruffles a moment the face of the water then sinks, and is
+remembered no more."
+
+"What, going--going to-morrow?" she exclaimed, catching hold of his arm
+for support, for she felt sick and dizzy at the sudden annunciation.
+
+"Yes!" he replied, drawing her arm through his, and retaining her hand,
+which was as cold as ice. "Your brother Louis will accompany me. It is
+meet that he should visit my Virginian home, since I have so long
+trespassed on the hospitality of his. Whether I ever return depends upon
+yourself. If my presence bring only discord and sorrow, it is better,
+far better, that I never look upon your face again. If you cannot trust
+me, let us part forever."
+
+They were now very near the house, very near a large tree, which had a
+rustic bench leaning against it. Its branches swept against the fence
+which enclosed Miss Thusa's bleaching ground. The white arch of the
+bridge spanned the shadows that hung darkly over it. Mittie drew away
+her arm from Clinton and sank down upon the bench. She felt as if the
+roots of her heart were all drawing out, so intense was her anguish.
+
+Clinton going away--probably never to return--going, too, cold, altered
+and estranged. It was in vain he breathed to her words of love, the
+loving spirit, the vitality was wanting. And this was the dissolving of
+her wild dreams of love--of her fair visions of felicity. But the
+keenest pang was imparted by the conviction that it was her own fault.
+He had told her so, dispassionately and deliberately. It was her own
+evil temper that had disenchanted him. It was her own dark passions
+which had destroyed the spell her beauty had wrapped around him.
+
+What the warnings of a father, the admonitions of friends had failed to
+effect, a few words from the lips of Clinton had suddenly wrought. He
+had loved. He should love her once more--for she would be soft and
+gentle and womanly for his sake. She would be kind to Helen, and
+courteous to all. This flashing moment of introspection gave her a
+glimpse of her own heart which made her shudder. It was not, however,
+the sunlight of truth, growing brighter and brighter, that made the
+startling revelation; it was the lightning glare of excitement glancing
+into the dark abysses of passion, fiery and transitory, leaving behind a
+deeper, heavier gloom. Self-abased by the image on which she had been
+gazing, and subdued by the might of her grief, she covered her face with
+her hands and wept the bitterest tears that ever fell from the eyes of
+woman. They were drops of molten pride, hot and blistering, leaving the
+eyes blood-shot and dim. It was a strange thing to see the haughty
+Mittie weep. Clinton sat down beside her, and poured the oil of his
+smooth, seductive words on the troubled waves he had lashed into foam.
+Soft, low, and sad as the whispers of the autumn wind, his voice
+murmured in her ear, sad, for it breathed but of parting. She continued
+to weep, but her tears no longer flowed from the springs of agony.
+
+"Mittie!" A sterner voice than that of Clinton's breathed her name.
+"Mittie, you must come in, the night air is too damp."
+
+It was her father who spoke, of whose approach she was not aware. He
+spoke with an air of authority which he seldom assumed, and taking her
+hand, led her into the house.
+
+All the father was moved within him, at the sight of his daughter's
+tears. It was the first time that he had seen them flow, or at least he
+never remembered to have seen her weep. She had not wept when a child,
+by the bed of a dying mother--(and the tears of childhood are usually an
+ever-welling spring)--she had not wept over her grave--and now her bosom
+was laboring with ill-suppressed sobs. What power had blasted the
+granite rock that covered the fountain of her sensibilities?
+
+He entreated her to confide in him, to tell him the cause of her
+anguish. If Clinton had been trifling with her happiness, he should not
+depart without feeling the weight of parental indignation.
+
+"No man dare to trifle with my happiness!" she exclaimed. "Clinton dare
+not do it. Reserve your indignation for real wrongs. Wait till I ask
+redress. Have I not a right to weep, if I choose? Helen may shed oceans
+of tears, without being called to account. All I ask, all I pray for, is
+to be left alone."
+
+Thus the proud girl closed the avenues of sympathy and consolation, and
+shut herself up with her own corroding thoughts, for the transient
+feelings of humility and self-abasement had passed away with the low,
+sweet echoes of the voice of Clinton, leaving nothing but the sullen
+memory of her grief. And yet the hope that he still loved her was the
+vital spark that sustained and warmed her. His last words breathed so
+much of his early tenderness and devotion, his manner possessed all its
+wonted fascination.
+
+A calm succeeded, if not peace.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+    An ancient woman there was, who dwelt
+      In an old gray collage all alone--
+    She turned her wheel the live long day--
+      There was music, I ween, in its solemn drone.
+    As she twisted the flax, the threads of thought
+      Kept twisting too, dark, mystic threads--
+    And the tales she told were legends old,
+      Quaint fancies, woven of lights and shades.
+
+
+It is said that absence is like death, and that through its softening
+shadow, faults, and even vices, assume a gentle and unforbidding aspect.
+But it is not so. Death, the prime minister of God, invests with solemn
+majesty the individual on whom he impresses his cold, white seal. The
+weakest, meanest being that ever drew the breath of life is
+awe-inspiring, wrapped in the mystery of death. It seems as if the
+invisible spirit might avenge the insult offered to its impassive,
+deserted companion. But absence has no such commanding power. If the
+mind has been enthralled by the influence of personal fascination, there
+is generally a sudden reaction. The judgment, liberated from captivity,
+exerts its newly recovered strength, and becomes more arbitrary and
+uncompromising for the bondage it has endured.
+
+Now Bryant Clinton was gone, Mr. Gleason wondered at his own
+infatuation. No longer spell-bound by the magic of his eye, and the
+alluring grace of his manners, he could recall a thousand circumstances
+which had previously made no impression on his mind. He blamed himself
+for allowing Louis to continue in such close intimacy with one, of whose
+parentage and early history he knew nothing. He blamed himself still
+more, for permitting his daughter such unrestricted intercourse with a
+young man so dangerously attractive. He blamed himself still more, for
+consenting to the departure of his son with a companion, in whose
+principles he did not confide, and of whose integrity he had many
+doubts. Why had he suffered this young man to wind around the household
+in smooth and shining coils, insinuating himself deeper and deeper into
+the heart, and binding closer and closer the faculties which might
+condemn, and the will that might resist his sorcery?
+
+He blushed one moment for his weakness, the next upbraided himself for
+the harshness of his judgment, for the uncharitableness of his
+conclusions. The first letter which he received from Louis, did not
+remove his apprehensions. He said Clinton had changed his plans. He did
+not intend to return immediately to Virginia, but to travel awhile
+first, and visit some friends, whom he had neglected for the charming
+home he had just quitted. Louis dwelt with eloquent diffuseness on the
+advantages of traveling with such a companion, of the fine opportunity
+he had of seeing something of the world, after leading the student's
+monotonous and secluded life. Enclosed in this letter were bills of a
+large amount, contracted at college, of whose existence the father was
+perfectly unconscious. No reference was made to these, save in the
+postscript, most incoherent in expression, and written evidently with an
+unsteady hand. He begged his father to forgive him for having
+forgotten--the word _forgotten_ was partially erased, and _neglected_
+substituted in its place--ah! Louis, Louis, you should have said
+_feared_ to present to him before his departure. He threw himself upon
+the indulgence of a parent, who he knew would be as ready to pardon the
+errors, as he was able to understand the temptation to which youth was
+exposed, when deprived of parental guidance.
+
+The letter dropped from Mr. Gleason's hand. A dark cloud gathered on his
+brow. A sharp pain darted through his heart. His son, his ingenuous,
+noble, high-minded boy had deceived him--betrayed his confidence, and
+wasted, with the recklessness of a spendthrift, money to which he had no
+legitimate claims.
+
+When Louis entered college, and during the whole course of his education
+there, Mr. Gleason had defrayed his necessary expenses, and supplied him
+liberally with spending money.
+
+"Keep out of debt, my son," was his constant advice. "In every
+unexpected emergency apply to me. Debt unnecessarily recurred is both
+dishonorable and disgraceful. When a boy contracts debts unknown to his
+parents, they are associated with shame and ruin. Beware of temptation."
+
+Mr. Gleason was not rich. He was engaged in merchandise, and had an
+income sufficient for the support of his family, sufficient to supply
+every want, and gratify every wish within the bounds of reason; but he
+had nothing to throw away, nothing to scatter broadcast beneath the
+ploughshare of ruin. He did not believe that Louis had fallen into
+disobedience and error without a guide in sin. Like Eve, he had been
+beguiled by a serpent, and he had eaten of the fruit of the tree of
+forbidden knowledge, whose taste
+
+    "Brought death into the world,
+    And all our woe!"
+
+That serpent must be Clinton, that Lucifer, that son of the morning,
+that seeming angel of light. Thus, in the excitement of his anger, he
+condemned the young man, who, after all, might be innocent of all guile,
+and free from all transgression.
+
+Crushing the papers in his hand, he saw a line which had escaped his eye
+before. It was this--
+
+     "I cannot tell you where to address me, as we are now on the wing.
+     I shall write again soon."
+
+"So he places himself beyond the reach of admonition and recall,"
+thought Mr. Gleason. "Oh! Louis, had your mother lived, how would her
+heart have been wrung by the knowledge of your aberration from
+rectitude! And how will the kind and noble being who fills that mother's
+place in our affections and home, mourn over her weak and degenerate
+boy."
+
+Yes! she did mourn, but not without hope. She had too much faith in the
+integrity of Louis to believe him capable of deliberate transgression.
+She knew his ardent temperament his convivial spirit, and did not think
+it strange that he should be led into temptation. He must not withdraw
+his confidence, because it had been once betrayed. Neither would she
+suffer so dark a cloud of suspicion to rest upon Clinton. It was unjust
+to suspect him, when he was surrounded by so many young, and doubtless,
+evil companions. She regretted Clinton's sojourn among them, since it
+had had so unhappy an influence on Mittie, but it was cowardly to plunge
+a dagger into the back of one on whose face their hospitable smiles had
+so lately beamed. We have said that she had a small property of her own.
+She insisted upon drawing on this for the amount necessary to settle the
+bills of Louis. She had reserved it for the children's use, and perhaps
+when Louis was made aware of the source whence pecuniary assistance
+came, he would blush for the drain, and shame would restrain him from
+future extravagance. Mr. Gleason listened, hoped and believed. The cloud
+lighted up, and if it did not entirely pass away, glimpses of sunshine
+were seen breaking through.
+
+And this was the woman whom Mittie disdained to honor with the title of
+_mother_!
+
+Helen had recovered from the double shock she had received the night
+previous to Clinton's departure, but she was not the same Helen that she
+was before. Her childhood was gone. The flower leaves of her heart
+unfolded, not by the soft, genial sunshine, but torn open by the
+whirlwind's power. Never more could she meet Arthur Hazleton with the
+innocent freedom which had made their intercourse so delightful. If he
+took her hand, she trembled and withdrew it. If she met his eye, she
+blushed and turned away her glance--that eye, which though it flashed
+not with the fires of passion, had such depth, and strength, and
+intensity in its expression. Her embarrassment was contagious, and
+constraint and reserve took the place of confidence and ingenuousness;
+like the semi-transparent drapery over a beautiful picture, which
+suffers the lineaments to be traced, while the warm coloring and
+brightness of life are chilled and obscured.
+
+The sisters were as much estranged as if they were the inmates of
+different abodes. Mrs. Gleason had prepared a room for Helen adjoining
+her own, resolved she should be removed as far as possible from Mittie's
+dagger tongue. Thus Mittie was left to the solitude she courted, and
+which no one seemed disposed to disturb. She remained the most of her
+time in her own chamber, seldom joining the family except at table,
+where she appeared more like a stranger than a daughter or a sister. She
+seemed to take no interest in any thing around her, nor did she seek to
+inspire any. She looked paler than formerly, and a purplish shade dimmed
+the brilliancy of her dazzling eyes.
+
+"You look pale, my daughter," her father would sometimes say. "I fear
+you are not well."
+
+"I am perfectly well," she would answer, with a manner so cold and
+distant, sympathy was at once repelled.
+
+"Will you not sit with us?" Mrs. Gleason would frequently ask, as she
+and Helen drew near the blazing fire, with their work-baskets or books,
+for winter was now abroad in the land. "Will you not read to us, or with
+us?"
+
+"I prefer being in my own room," was the invariable answer; and usually
+at night, when the curtains were let down, and the lamps lighted in the
+apartment, warm and glowing with the genialities and comforts of home,
+the young doctor would come in and occupy Mittie's vacant seat.
+Notwithstanding the comparative coldness and reserve of Helen's manners,
+his visits became more and more frequent. He seemed reconciled to the
+loss of the ingenuous, confiding child, since he had found in its stead
+the growing charms of womanhood.
+
+Arthur was a fine reader. His voice had that minor key which touches the
+chords of tenderness and feeling--that voice so sweet at the fireside,
+so adapted to poetry and all deep and earnest thoughts. He did not read
+on like a machine, without pausing to make remark or criticism, but his
+beautiful, eloquent commentaries came in like the symphonies of an
+organ. He drew forth the latent enthusiasm of Helen, who, forgetting
+herself and Mittie's withering accusations, expressed her sentiments
+with a grace, simplicity and fervor peculiar to herself. At the
+commencement of the evening she generally took her sewing from the
+basket, and her needle would flash and fly like a shooting arrow, but
+gradually her hands relaxed, the work fell into her lap, and yielding to
+the combined charms of genius and music, the divine music of the human
+voice, she gave herself up completely to the rapture of drinking in
+
+    "Those silver sounds, so soft, so dear,
+    The listener held her breath to hear."
+
+If Arthur lifted his eyes from the page, which he had a habit of doing,
+he was sure to encounter a glance of bright intelligence and thrilling
+sensibility, instantaneously withdrawn, and then he often lost his
+place, skipped over a paragraph, or read the same sentence a second
+time, while that rich mantling glow, so seldom seen on the cheek of
+manhood, stole slowly over his face.
+
+These were happy evenings, and Helen could have exclaimed with little
+Frank in the primer, "Oh! that winter would last forever!" And yet there
+were times when she as well as her parents was oppressed with a weight
+of anxious sorrow that was almost insupportable, on account of Louis. He
+came not, he wrote not--and the only letter received from him had
+excited the most painful apprehensions for his moral safety. It
+contained shameful records of his past deviations from rectitude, and
+judging of the present by the past, they had every reason to fear that
+he had become an alien from virtue and home. Mr. Gleason seldom spoke of
+him, but his long fits of abstraction, the gloom of his brow, and the
+inquietude of his eye, betrayed the anxiety and grief rankling within.
+
+Helen knew not the contents of her brother's letter, nor the secret
+cause of grief that preyed on her father's mind, but his absence and
+silence were trials over which she openly and daily mourned with deep
+and increasing sorrow.
+
+"We shall hear from him to-morrow. He will come to-morrow." This was the
+nightly lullaby to her disappointed and murmuring heart.
+
+Mittie likewise repeated to herself the same refrain "He will come
+to-morrow. He will write to-morrow." But it was not of Louis that the
+prophecy was breathed. It was of another, who had become the one
+thought.
+
+Helen had not forgotten her old friend Miss Thusa, whom the rigors of
+winter confined more closely than ever to her lonely cabin. Almost every
+day she visited her, and even if the ground were covered with snow, and
+icicles hung from the trees, there was a path through the woods, printed
+with fairy foot-tracks, that showed where Helen had walked. Mr. Gleason
+supplied the solitary spinster with wood ready out for the hearth, had
+her cottage banked with dark red tan, and furnished her with many
+comforts and luxuries. He never forgot her devoted attachment to his
+dead wife, who had commended to his care and kindness the lone woman on
+her dying bed. Mrs. Gleason frequently accompanied Helen in her visits,
+and as Miss Thusa said, "always came with full hands and left a full
+heart behind her." Helen sometimes playfully asked her to tell her the
+history of the wheel so long promised, but she put her off with a shake
+of the head, saying--"she should hear it by and by, when the right time
+was at hand."
+
+"But when is the right time, Miss Thusa?" asked Helen. "I begin to think
+it is to-morrow."
+
+"To-morrow never comes," replied Miss Thusa, solemnly, "but death does.
+When his footsteps cross the old stile and tramp over the mossy
+door-stones, I'll tell you all about that ancient machine. It won't do
+any good till then. You are too young yet. I feel better than I did in
+autumn, and may last longer than I thought I should--but, perhaps, when
+the ground thaws in the spring the old tree will loosen and fall--or
+break off suddenly near the root. I have seen such things in my day."
+
+"Oh! Miss Thusa," said Helen, "I never want to hear any thing about it,
+if its history is to be bought so dear--indeed I do not."
+
+"Only if you should marry, child, before I die," continued Miss Thusa,
+musingly, "you shall know then. It is not very probable that such will
+be the case; but it is astonishing how young girls shoot up into
+womanhood, now-a-days."
+
+"It will be a long time before I shall think of marrying, Miss Thusa,"
+answered Helen, laughing. "I believe I will live as you do, in a cottage
+of my own, with my wheel for companion and familiar friend."
+
+"It is not such as you that are born to live alone," said the spinster,
+passing her hand lovingly over Helen's fair, warm cheek. "You are a
+love-vine that must have something to grow upon. No, no--don't talk in
+that way. It don't sound natural. It don't come from the heart. Now _I_
+was made to be by myself. I never saw the man I wanted to live one day
+with--much less all the days of my life. They may say this is sour
+grapes, and call me an old maid, but I don't care for that; I must have
+my own way, and I know it is a strange one; and there never was a man
+created that didn't want to have his. You laugh, child. I hope you will
+never find it out to your cost. But you havn't any will of your own; so
+it will be all as it should be, after all."
+
+"Oh, yes I have, Miss Thusa; I like to have my own way as well as any
+one--when I think I am right."
+
+"What makes your cheeks redden so, and your heart flutter like a bird
+caught in a snare?" cried the spinster, looking thoughtfully, almost
+sorrowfully, into Helen's soft, loving, hazel eyes. "_That step_ doesn't
+cross my threshold so often for nothing. You would know it in an army of
+ten thousand."
+
+The door opened and Arthur Hazleton entered. The day was cold, and a
+comfortable fire blazed in the chimney. The fire-beams that were
+reflected from Helen's glowing cheek might account for its burning rose,
+for it even gave a warmer tint to Miss Thusa's dark, gray form. Arthur
+drew his chair near Helen, who as usual occupied a little stool in the
+corner.
+
+"What magnificent strings of coral you have, Miss Thusa?" said he,
+looking up to a triple garland of red peppers, strung on some of her own
+unbleached linen thread, and suspended over the fire-place. "I suppose
+they are more for ornament than use."
+
+"I never had any thing for ornament in my life," said Miss Thusa. "I
+supply the whole neighborhood with peppers; and I do think a drink of
+pepper tea helps one powerfully to bear the winter's cold."
+
+"I think I must make you my prime minister, Miss Thusa," said the young
+doctor, "for I scarcely ever visit a patient, that I don't find some
+traces of your benevolence, in the shape of balmy herbs and medicinal
+shrubs. How much good one can do in the world if they only think of it!"
+
+"It is little good that I've ever done," cried the spinster. "All my
+comfort is that I havn't done a great deal of harm."
+
+Opening the door of a closet, at the right of the chimney, she stooped
+to lift a log of wood, but Arthur springing up, anticipated her
+movement, and replenished the already glowing hearth.
+
+"You keep glorious fires, Miss Thusa," said he, retreating from the hot
+sparkles that came showering on the hearth, and the magnificent blaze
+that roared grandly up the chimney.
+
+"It is _her_ father that sends me the wood--and if it isn't his daughter
+that is warmed by my fire-side, let the water turn to ice on these
+bricks."
+
+"And now, Miss Thusa," said the young doctor, "while we are enjoying
+this hospitable warmth, tell us one of those good old-fashioned stories,
+Helen used to love so much to hear. It is a long time since I have heard
+one--and I am sure Helen will thank me for the suggestion."
+
+"I ought to be at my wheel, instead of fooling with my tongue," replied
+Miss Thusa, jerking her spectacles down on the bridge of her nose. "I
+shan't earn the salt of my porridge at this rate; besides there's too
+much light; somehow or other, I never could feel like reciting them in
+broad daylight. There must be a sort of a shadow, to make me inspired."
+
+"Please Miss Thusa, oblige the doctor this time," pleaded Helen. "I'll
+come and spin all day to-morrow for you, and send you a sack of salt
+beside."
+
+"Set a kitten to spinning!" exclaimed Miss Thusa, her grim features
+relaxing into a smile--putting at the same time her wheel against the
+wall, and seating herself in the corner opposite to Helen.
+
+"Thank you," cried Helen, "I knew you would not refuse. Now please tell
+us something gentle and beautiful--something that will make us better
+and happier. Ghosts, you know, never appear till darkness comes. The
+angels do."
+
+Miss Thusa, sat looking into the fire, with a musing, dreamy expression,
+or rather on the ashes, which formed a gray bed around the burning
+coals. Her thoughts were, however, evidently wandering inward, through
+the dim streets and shadowy aisles of that Herculaneum of the
+soul--memory.
+
+Arthur laid his hand with an admonishing motion on Helen, whose lips
+parted to speak, and the trio sat in silence for a few moments, waiting
+the coming inspiration. It has been so often said that we do not like to
+repeat the expression, but it really would have been a study for a
+painter--that old, gray room (for the walls being unpainted were of the
+color of Miss Thusa's dress;) the antique, brass-bound wheel, the
+scarlet tracery over the chimney, and the three figures illuminated by
+the flame-light of the blazing chimney. It played, that flame-light,
+with rich, warm lustre on Helen's soft, brown hair and roseate cheek,
+quivered with purplish radiance among Arthur's darker locks--and lighted
+up with a sunset glow, Miss Thusa's hoary tresses.
+
+"Gentle and beautiful!" repeated the oracle. "Yes! every thing seems
+beautiful to the young. If I could remember ever feeling young, I dare
+say beautiful memories would come back to me. 'Tis very strange, though,
+that the older I grow, the pleasanter are the pictures that are
+reflected on my mind. The way grows smoother and clearer. I suppose it
+is like going out on a dark night--at first you can hardly see the hand
+before you, but as you go groping along, it lightens up more and more."
+
+She paused, looked from Arthur Hazleton to Helen, then from Helen to
+Arthur, as if she were endeavoring to embue her spirit with the grace
+and beauty of youth.
+
+"I remember a tale," she resumed, "which I heard or read, long, long
+ago--which perhaps I've never told. It is about a young Prince, who was
+heir to a great kingdom, somewhere near the place where the garden of
+Eden once was. When the King, his father, was on his death bed, he
+called his son to him, and told him that he was going to die.
+
+"'And now, my son,' he said, 'remember my parting words. I leave you all
+alone, without father or mother, brother or sister--without any one to
+love or love you. Last night I had a dream, and you know God's will was
+made known in dreams, to holy men of old. There came, in my dream, an
+aged man, with a beard as white as ermine, that hung down like a mantle
+over his breast, with a wand in his right hand, and stood beside my bed.
+
+"'Hear my words,' he exclaimed, in a solemn voice, 'and tell them to
+your son. When you are dead and gone, let him gird himself for a long
+pilgrimage. If he stay here, he will be turned into a marble statue. To
+avert this doom, he must travel through the world till he finds a young
+maiden's warm, living heart--and the maiden must be fair and good, and
+be willing to let the knife enter her bosom, and her heart be taken
+bleeding thence. And then he must travel farther still, till a white
+dove shall come from the East, and fold its wings on his breast. If you
+would save your kingdom and your son, command him to do this. It is the
+will of the Most High.'
+
+"The old man departed, but his words echoed like thunder in my ears.
+Obey him, my son, the vision came from above.
+
+"The young Prince saw his father laid in the tomb, then prepared himself
+for his pilgrimage. He did not like the idea of being turned into
+marble, neither did he like the thought of taking the heart of a young
+and innocent maiden, if he should find one willing to make the
+offering--which he did not believe. The Prince had a bright eye and a
+light step, and he was dressed in brave attire. The maidens looked out
+of the windows as he passed along, and the young men sighed with envy.
+He came to a great palace, and being a King's son, he thought he had a
+right to enter it; and there he saw a young and beautiful lady, all
+shining with diamonds and pearls. There was a great feast waiting in the
+hall, and she asked him to stay, and pressed him to eat and drink, and
+gave him many glasses of wine, as red as rubies. After the feast was
+over, and he felt most awfully as he did it, he begged for her heart,
+the tears glittering in his eyes for sorrow. She smiled, and told him it
+was already his--but--when with a shaking hand he took a knife, and
+aimed it at her breast, she screamed and rushed out of the hall, as if
+the evil one was behind her--Don't interrupt me, child--don't--I shall
+forget it all if you do. Well, the Prince went on his way, thinking the
+old man had sent him on a fool's errand--but he dared not disobey his
+dead father, seeing he was a King. It would take me from sun to sun to
+tell of all the places where he stopped, and of all the screaming and
+threatening that followed him wherever he went. It is a wonder he did
+not turn deaf as an adder. At last he got very tired and sorrowful, and
+sat down by the wayside and wept, thinking he would rather turn to
+marble at once, than live by such a horrible remedy. He saw a little
+cabin close by, but he had hardly strength to reach it, and he thought
+he would stay there and die.
+
+"'What makes you weep?' said a voice so sweet he thought it was music
+itself, and looking up, he saw a young maiden, who had come up a path
+behind him, with a pitcher of water on her head. She was beautiful and
+fair to look upon, though her dress was as plain as could be. She
+offered him water to drink, and told him if he would go with her to the
+little cabin, her mother would give him something to eat, and a bed to
+lie upon, for the night dew was beginning to fall. He had not on his
+fine dress at this time, having changed it for that of a young peasant,
+thinking perhaps he would succeed better in disguise. So he followed her
+steps, and they gave him milk, and bread, and honey, and a nice bed to
+sleep upon, though it was somewhat hard and coarse. And there he fell
+sick, and they nursed him day after day, and brought him back to health.
+The young maiden grew more lovely in his eye, and her voice sounded more
+and more sweet in his ear. Sometimes he thought of the sacrifice he was
+to ask, but he could not do it. No, he would die first. One night, the
+old man with the long, white beard, came in his dream, to his bedside.
+He looked dark and frowning.
+
+"'This is the maiden,' he cried, 'your pilgrimage is ended here. Do as
+thou art bidden, and then depart.'
+
+"When the morning came, he was pale and sad, and the young girl was pale
+and sad from sympathy. Then the Prince knelt down at her feet, and told
+her the history of his father's dream and his own, and of his exceeding
+great and bitter sorrow. He wept, but the maiden smiled, and she looked
+like an angel with that sweet smile on her face.
+
+"'My heart is yours,' she said, 'I give it willingly and cheerfully.
+Drain from it every drop of blood, if you will--I care not, so it save
+_you_ from perishing.'
+
+"Then the eyes of the young Prince shone out like the sun after a storm,
+and drawing his dagger from his bosom, he--"
+
+"Stop, Miss Thusa--don't go on," interrupted Helen, pale with emotion.
+"I cannot bear to hear it. It is too awful. I asked you for something
+beautiful, and you have chosen the most terrible theme. Don't finish
+it."
+
+"Is there not something beautiful," said the young doctor, bending down,
+and addressing her in a low voice--"is there not something beautiful in
+such pure and self-sacrificing love? Is there no chord in your heart
+that thrills responsive as you listen? Oh, Helen--I am sure _you_ could
+devote yourself for one you loved."
+
+"Oh, yes!" she answered, forgetting, in her excitement, all her natural
+timidity. "I could do it joyfully, glorying in the sacrifice. But he, so
+selfish, so cruel, so sanguinary--it is from him I shrink. His heart is
+already marble--it cannot change."
+
+"Wait, child--wait till you hear the end," cried Miss Thusa, inspired by
+the effect of her words. "He drew a dagger from his bosom, and was about
+to plunge it in his _own_ heart, and die at her feet, when the old man
+of his dream entered and caught hold of his arm."
+
+"''Tis enough,' he cried. 'The trial is over. She has given you her
+heart, her warm, living heart--take it and cherish it. Without love, man
+turns to stone--and thus becomes a marble statue. You have proved your
+own love and hers, since you are willing to die for each other. Put up
+your dagger, and if you ever wound that heart of hers, the vengeance of
+Heaven rest upon you.'
+
+"Thus saying, he departed, but strange to tell, as he was speaking, his
+face was all the time growing younger and fairer, his white beard
+gradually disappeared, and as he went through the door, a pair of white
+wings, tipped with gold, began to flutter on his shoulders. Then they
+knew it was an angel that had been with them, and they bowed themselves
+down to the floor and trembled. Is there any need of my telling you,
+that the Prince married the young maiden, and carried her to his
+kingdom, and set her on his throne? Is there any need of my saying how
+beautiful she looked, with a golden crown on her head, and a golden
+chain on her neck, and how meek and good she was all the time, in spite
+of her finery? No, I am sure there isn't. Now, I must go to spinning."
+
+"That _is_ beautiful!" cried Helen, the color coming back to her
+cheeks, "but the white dove, Miss Thusa, that was to fold its wings on
+his bosom. You have forgotten that."
+
+"Have I? Yes--yes. Sure enough, I am getting old and forgetful. The
+white dove that was to come from the east! I remember it all now:--After
+he had reigned awhile he dreamed again that he was commanded to go in
+quest of the dove, and take his young Queen with him. They were to go on
+foot as pilgrims, and leave all their pomp and state behind them, with
+their faces towards the east, and their eyes lifted to Heaven. While
+they were journeying on, the young Queen began to languish, and grow
+pale and wan. At last she sunk down at his feet, and told him that she
+was going to die, and leave him alone in his pilgrimage. The young King
+smote his breast, and throwing himself down by her side, prayed to God
+that he might die too. Then she comforted him, and told him to live for
+his people, and bow to the will of the Most High.
+
+"'You were willing to die for me,' she cried, 'show greater love by
+being willing to live when I am gone--love to God and me.'
+
+"'The will of God be done,' he exclaimed, prostrating himself before the
+Lord. Then a soft flutter was heard above his head, and a beautiful
+white dove flew into his bosom. At the same time an angel appeared, whom
+he knew was the old man of his dream, all glorified as it were, and the
+moment he breathed on her, the dying Queen revived and smiled on her
+husband, just as she did in her mother's cabin.
+
+"'You were willing to give your own life for hers,' said the angel to
+the young King, 'and that was love. You were willing to give her up to
+God, and that was greater love to a greater being. Thou hast been
+weighed in the balance and not found wanting. Return and carry in thy
+bosom the milk-white dove, and never let it flee from thy dwelling.'
+
+"The angel went up into Heaven--the young King and Queen returned to
+their palace, where they had a long, happy, and godly reign."
+
+The logs in the chimney had burned down to a bed of mingled scarlet and
+jet, that threw out a still more intense heat, and the sun had rolled
+down the west, leaving a bed of scarlet behind it, while Miss Thusa
+related the history of the young Prince of the East.
+
+Helen, in the intensity of her interest, had forgotten the gliding
+hours, and wondered where the day had flown.
+
+"I think if you related me such stories, Miss Thusa, every day," said
+the young doctor, "I should be a wiser and better man. I shall not
+forget this soon."
+
+"I do not believe I shall tell another story as long as I live," replied
+she, shaking her head oracularly. "I had to exert myself powerfully to
+remember and put that together as I wanted to. Well, well--all the gifts
+of God are only loans after all, and He has a right to take them away
+whenever He chooses. We mustn't murmur and complain about it."
+
+"Dear Miss Thusa, this is the best story you ever told," cried Helen,
+while she muffled herself for her cold, evening walk. "There is
+something so touching in its close--and the moral sinks deep in the
+heart. No, no; I hope to hear a hundred more at least, like this. I am
+glad you have given up ghosts for angels."
+
+The wind blew in strong, wintry gusts, as they passed through the
+leafless woods. Helen shivered with cold, in spite of the warm garments
+that sheltered her. The scarlet of the horizon had faded into a chill,
+darkening gray, and as they moved through the shadows, they were
+scarcely distinguishable themselves from the trees whose dry branches
+creaked above their heads. Arthur folded his cloak around Helen to
+protect her from the inclemency of the air, and the warmth of summer
+stole into her heart. They talked of Miss Thusa, of the story she had
+told, of its interest and its moral, and Arthur said he would be willing
+to make a pilgrimage to Mecca, over burning coals, for such a heart as
+the maiden offered to the young Prince. That very heart was throbbing
+close, very close to his, but its deep emotions found no utterance
+through the lips. Helen remarked that she would willingly travel with
+bleeding feet from end to end of the universe, for the beautiful white
+dove, which was the emblem of God's holy spirit.
+
+"Helen, that dove is nestling in your bosom already," cried Arthur
+Hazleton; "but the heart I sigh for, will it indeed ever be mine?"
+
+Helen could not answer, for she dared not interpret the words which,
+though addressed to herself, might have reference to another. With the
+humility and self-depreciation usually the accompaniment of deep
+reverence and devotion, she could not believe it possible that one so
+exalted in intellect, so noble in character, so beloved and honored by
+all who knew him, so much older than herself; one, too, who knew all her
+weaknesses and faults, could ever look upon her otherwise than with
+brotherly kindness and regard. Then she contrasted his manner with that
+of Clinton, for his were the only love-words that ever were breathed
+into her ear, and she was sure that if Clinton's was the language of
+love, Arthur's was that of friendship only. Perhaps her silence chilled,
+it certainly hushed the expression of his thoughts, for he spoke not
+till they reached the threshold of her home. The bright light gleaming
+through the blinds, showed them how dark it had grown abroad since they
+left Miss Thusa's cottage. Helen was conscious then how very slowly they
+must have walked.
+
+"Thank you," said she, releasing herself from the sheltering folds that
+had enveloped her. "Hark!" she suddenly exclaimed, "whose voice is that
+I hear within? It is--it must be Louis. Dear, dear Louis!--so long
+absent!--so anxiously looked for!"
+
+Even in that moment of joy, while bounding over the threshold with the
+fleetness of a fawn, the dreaded form of Clinton rose before the eye of
+her imagination, and arrested for a moment her flying steps. Again she
+heard the voice of Louis, and Clinton was forgotten.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+    "Go, sin no more! Thy penance o'er,
+    A new and better life begin!
+    God maketh thee forever free
+    From the dominion of thy sin!
+    Go, sin no more! He will restore
+    The peace that filled thy heart before,
+    And pardon thine iniquity."--_Longfellow._
+
+
+"I am glad you came _alone_, brother," cried Helen, when, after the
+supper was over, they all drew around the blazing hearth. Louis turned
+abruptly towards her, and as the strong firelight fell full upon his
+face, she was shocked even more than at first, with his altered
+appearance. The bloom, the brightness, the joyousness of youth were
+gone, leaving in their stead, paleness, and dimness, and gloom. He
+looked several years older than when he left home, but his was not the
+maturity of the flower, but its premature wilting. There was a worm in
+the calyx, preying on the vitality of the blossom, and withering up its
+beauty.
+
+Yes! Louis had been feeding on the husks of dissipation, though in his
+father's house there was food enough and to spare. He had been selling
+his immortal birth-right for that which man has in common with the
+brutes that perish, and the reptiles that crawl in the dust. Slowly,
+reluctantly at first, had he stepped into the downward path, looking
+back with agonies of remorse to the smooth, green, flowery plains he had
+left behind, striving to return, but driven forward by the gravitating
+power of sin. The passionate resolutions he formed from day to day of
+amendment, were broken, like the light twigs that grow by the mountain
+wayside.
+
+He had looked upon the wine when it was red, and found in its dregs the
+sting of the adder. He had participated in the maddening excitement of
+the gaming-table, from which remorse and horror pursued him with
+scorpion lash. He had entered the "chambers of death"--though avenging
+demons guarded its threshold. Poor, tempted Louis! poor, fallen Louis!
+In how short a space has the whiteness of thy innocence been sullied,
+the glory of thy promise been obscured! But the flame fed by oxygen soon
+wastes away by its own intensity, and ardent passions once kindled, burn
+with self-consuming rapidity.
+
+We have not followed Louis in his wild and reckless course since he left
+his father's mansion. It was too painful to witness the degeneracy of
+our early favorite. But the whole history of the past was written on his
+haggard brow and pallid cheek. It need not be recorded here. He had
+thought himself a life-long alien from the home he had disgraced, for
+never could he encounter his father's indignant frown, or call up the
+blush of shame on Helen's spotless cheek.
+
+But one of those mighty drawings of the spirit--stronger than chains of
+triple steel--that thirst of the heart for pure domestic joy, which the
+foaming goblet can never quench--that immortal longing which rises up
+from the lowest abysses of sin, that yearning for pardon which stirred
+the bosom of the Hebrew prodigal, constrained the transgressing Louis to
+burst asunder the bonds of iniquity, and return to his father's house.
+
+"I am glad you have come alone, brother," repeated Helen, repressing the
+sigh that quivered on her lips.
+
+"Who did you expect would be my companion?" asked Louis, putting back
+the long, neglected locks, that fell darkly over his temples.
+
+"I feared Bryant Clinton would return with you," replied Helen,
+regretting the next moment that she had uttered a name which seemed to
+have the effect of galvanism on Mittie--who started spasmodically, and
+lifted the screen before her face. No one had asked for Clinton, yet all
+had been thinking of him more or less.
+
+"I have not seen him for several weeks," he replied, "he had business
+that called him in another direction, but he will probably be here
+soon."
+
+Again Mittie gave a spasmodic start, and held the screen closer to her
+face. Helen sighed, and looked anxiously towards her mother. The
+announcement excited very contradictory emotions.
+
+"Do you mean to imply that he is coming again as the guest of your
+parents, as the inmate of this home?" asked Mr. Gleason, sternly.
+
+"Yes, sir," replied Louis, a red streak flashing across his face. "How
+could it be otherwise?"
+
+"But it _shall_ be otherwise," exclaimed Mr. Gleason, rising abruptly
+from his chair, and speaking with a vehemence so unwonted that it
+inspired awe. "That young man shall never again, with my consent, sit
+down at my board, or sleep under my roof. I believe him a false,
+unprincipled, dangerous companion--whom my doors shall never more be
+opened to receive. Had it not been for him, that pale, stone-like,
+petrified girl, might have been brilliant and blooming, yet. Had it not
+been for him, I should not have the anguish, the humiliation, the shame
+of seeing my son, my only son, the darling of his dead mother's heart,
+the pride and hope of mine, a blighted being, shorn of the brightness of
+youth, and the glory of advancing manhood. Talk not to me of bringing
+the destroyer here. This fireside shall never more be darkened by his
+presence."
+
+Mr. Gleason paused, but from his eye, fixed steadfastly on Louis, the
+long sleeping lightning darted. Mittie, who had sprung from her chair
+while her father was speaking, stood with white cheeks and parted lips,
+and eyes from which fire seemed to coruscate, gazing first at him, and
+then at her brother.
+
+"Father," cried Louis, "you wrong him. My sins and transgressions are my
+own. Mountain high as they are, they shall not crush another. Mine is
+the sorrow and guilt, and mine be the penalty. I do not extenuate my own
+offences, but I will not criminate others. I beseech you, sir, to recall
+what you have just uttered, for how can I close those doors upon a
+friend, which have so lately been opened for him with ungrudging
+hospitality?"
+
+Mittie's countenance lighted up with an indescribable expression. She
+caught her brother's hand, and pressing it in both hers, exclaimed--
+
+"Nobly said, Louis. He who can hear an absent friend defamed, without
+defending him, is worthy of everlasting scorn."
+
+But Helen, terrified at the outburst of her father's anger, and
+overwhelmed with grief for her brother's humiliation, bowed her head and
+wept in silence.
+
+Mr. Gleason turned his eyes, where the lightning still gleamed, from
+Louis to Mittie, as if trying to read her inscrutable countenance.
+
+"Tell me, Mittie," he cried, "the whole length and breadth of the
+interest you have in this young man. I have suffered you to elude this
+subject too long. I have borne with your proud and sullen reserve too
+long. I have been weak and irresolute in times past, but thoroughly
+aroused to a sense of my authority and responsibility as a father, as
+well as my duty as a man, I command you to tell me all that has passed
+between you and Bryant Clinton. Has he proffered you marriage? Has he
+exchanged with you the vows of betrothal? Have you gone so far without
+my knowledge or approval?"
+
+"I cannot answer such questions, sir," she haughtily replied, the hot
+blood rushing into her face and filling her forehead veins with purple.
+"You have no right to ask them in this presence. There are some subjects
+too sacred for investigation, and this is one. There are limits even to
+a father's authority, and I protest against its encroachments."
+
+Those who are slow to arouse to anger are slow to be appeased. The flame
+that is long in kindling generally burns with long enduring heat. Mr.
+Gleason had borne, with unexampled patience, Mittie's strange and
+wayward temper. For the sake of family peace he had sacrificed his own
+self-respect, which required deference and obedience in a child. But
+having once broken the spell which had chained his tongue, and meeting a
+resisting will, his own grew stronger and more determined.
+
+"Do you dare thus to reply to _me_, your father?" cried he; "you will
+find there are limits to a father's indulgence, too. Trifle not with my
+anger, but give me the answer I require."
+
+"Never, sir, never," cried she, with a mien as undaunted as Charlotte
+Corday's, that "angel of assassination," when arraigned before the
+tribunal of justice.
+
+"Did you never hear of a discarded child?" said he, his voice sinking
+almost to a whisper, it was so choked with passion.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"And do you not fear such a doom?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"My husband," exclaimed Mrs. Gleason, laying her hand imploringly on his
+shoulder, "be calm. Seek not by violence to break the stubborn will
+which kindness cannot bend. Let not our fireside be a scene of domestic
+contention, which we shall blush to recall. Leave her to the dark and
+sullen secrecy she prefers to our tenderness and sympathy. And, one
+thing I beseech you, my husband, suspend your judgment of the character
+of Clinton till Louis is able to explain all that is doubtful and
+mysterious. He is weary now, and needs rest instead of excitement."
+
+There was magic in the touch of that gentle hand, in the tones of that
+persuasive voice. The father's stern brow relaxed, and a cloud of the
+deepest sadness extinguished the fiery anger of his glance. The cloud
+condensed and melted away in tears. Helen saw them, though he turned
+away, and shaded his face with his hand, and putting her arms round him,
+she kissed the hand which hung loosely at his side. This act, so tender
+and respectful, touched him to the heart's core.
+
+"My child, my darling, my own sweet Helen," he cried, pressing her
+fondly to his bosom. "You have always been gentle, loving and obedient.
+You have never wilfully given me one moment's sorrow. In the name of thy
+beautiful mother I bless thee, and thou shalt be blessed."
+
+The excitement of his feelings gave an exalted tone to his voice and
+words, and as the benediction stole solemnly into her heart, Helen felt
+as if the plumage of the white dove was folded in downy softness there.
+In the meantime Mittie had quitted the room, and Mrs. Gleason drawing
+near Louis, sat down by him, and addressed him in a kind, cheering
+manner.
+
+"These heavy locks must be shorn to-morrow," said she, passing her hand
+over his long, dark hair. "They sadden your countenance too much. A
+night's sleep, too, will bring back the color to your face. You are over
+weary now. Retire, my son, and banish every emotion but gratitude for
+your return. You are safe now, and all will yet be well."
+
+"Oh, mother," he answered, suffering his head to droop upon her
+shoulder, then suddenly lifting it, "I am not worthy to rest on this
+sacred pillow. I am not worthy to touch the hem of your garments, but if
+the deepest repentance--the keenest remorse," he paused, for his voice
+faltered, then added, passionately, "oh, mother--
+
+    'Not poppy, nor mandragora,
+    Nor all the drowsy sirups of the world
+    Can ever medicine me to the sweet sleep'
+
+I once slept beneath this hallowed roof."
+
+"No, my son--but there is a remedy more balmy and powerful than all the
+drugs of the East, which you can obtain without money and without
+price."
+
+Louis shook his head mournfully.
+
+"I will give you an anodyne to-night, prepared by my own hand, and
+to-morrow--"
+
+"Give me the anodyne, kindest and best of mothers, but don't, for
+Heaven's sake, talk of to-morrow."
+
+But whether man speak or be silent, Time, the unresting traveler,
+presses on. Never but once have its chariot wheels been stayed, when the
+sun stood still on the plains of Gibeon, and the moon hung pale and
+immovable over the vale of Ajalon. Sorrow and remorse are great
+prophets, but Time is greater still, and they can no more arrest or
+accelerate its progress than the breath of a new-born infant can move
+the eternal mountains from their base.
+
+Louis slept, thanks to his step-mother's anodyne, and the dreaded morrow
+came, when the broad light of day must reveal all the inroads the
+indulgence of guilty passions had caused. Another revelation must be
+made. He knew his father would demand a full history of his conduct, and
+it was a relief to his burdened conscience, that had so long groaned
+under the weight of secret transgressions, to cast itself prostrate at
+the feet of parental authority in the dust and ashes of humiliation. But
+while he acknowledged and deplored his own vices, he could not
+criminate Clinton. He implored his father to inflict upon him any
+penalty, however severe, he knew, he felt it to be just, but not to
+require of him to treat his friend with ingratitude and insult. His stay
+would not be long. He must return very soon to Virginia. He had been
+prevented from doing so by a fatal and contagious disease that had been
+raging in the neighborhood of his home, and when that subsided, other
+accidental causes had constantly interfered with his design. Must the
+high-spirited Virginian go back to his native regions with the story so
+oft repeated of New England coldness and inhospitality verified in his
+own experience?
+
+"Say no more," said his father. "I will reflect on all you have said,
+and you shall know the result. Now, come with me to the counting-house,
+and let me see if you can put your mathematics to any practical use.
+Employment is the greatest safeguard against temptation."
+
+There was one revelation which Louis did not make, and that was the
+amount of his debts. He dared not do it, though again and again he had
+opened his lips to tell it.
+
+"To-morrow I will do it," thought he--but before the morrow came he
+recollected the words of Miss Thusa, uttered the last time he had
+visited her cabin--"If you should get into trouble and not want to vex
+those that are kin, you can come to me, and if you don't despise my
+counsel and assistance perhaps it may do you good." This had made but
+little impression on him at the time, but it came back to him now
+"_powerfully_" as Miss Thusa would say; and he thought it possible there
+was more meant than reached the ear. He remembered how meaningly, how
+even commandingly her gray eye had fixed itself on him as she spoke, and
+he believed in the great love which the ancient spinster bore him. At
+any rate he knew she would be gratified by such a proof of confidence on
+his part, and that with Spartan integrity she would guard the trust. It
+would be a relief to confide in her.
+
+He waited till twilight and then appeared an unexpected but welcome
+visitor at the Hermitage, as Helen called the old gray cottage. The
+light in the chimney was dim, and she was hastening to kindle a more
+cheering blaze.
+
+"No, Miss Thusa," said he, "I love this soft gloom. There's no need of a
+blaze to talk by, you know."
+
+"But I want to see you, Louis. It is long since we've watched your
+coming. Many a time has Helen sat where you are now, and talked about
+you till the tears would run down her cheeks, wondering why you didn't
+come, and fearing some evil had befallen you. I've had my misgivings,
+too, though I never breathed them to mortal ear, ever since you went off
+with that long-haired upstart, who fumbled so about my wheel, trying to
+fool me with his soft nonsense. What has become of him?"
+
+"He is at home, I believe--but you are too harsh in your judgment, Miss
+Thusa. It is strange what prejudiced you so against him."
+
+"Something _here_," cried the spinster, striking her hand against her
+heart; "something that God put here, not man. I'm glad you and he have
+parted company; and I'm glad for more sakes than one. I never loved
+Mittie, but she's her mother's child, and I don't like the thought of
+her being miserable for life. And now, Louis, what do you want me to do
+for you? I can see you are in trouble, though you don't want the fire to
+blaze on your face. You forget I wear glasses, though they are not
+always at home, where they ought to be, on the bridge of my nose."
+
+"You told me if I needed counsel or assistance, to come to you and not
+trouble my kindred. I am in distress, Miss Thusa, and it is my own
+fault. I'm in debt. I owe money that I cannot raise; I cannot tax my
+father again to pay the wages of sin. Tell me now how you can aid me;
+_you_, poor and lonely, earning only a scanty pittance by the flax on
+your distaff, and as ignorant of the world as simple-hearted Helen
+herself?"
+
+Miss Thusa leaned her head forward on both hands, swaying her body
+slowly backward and forward for a few seconds; then taking the poker,
+she gave the coals a great flourish, which made the sparks fly to the
+top of the chimney.
+
+"I'll try to help you," said she, "but if you have been doing wrong and
+been led away by evil companions, he, your father, ought to know it.
+Better find it out from yourself than anybody else."
+
+"He knows all my misconduct," replied Louis, raising his head with an
+air of pride. "I would scorn to deceive him. And yet," he added, with a
+conscious blush, "you may accuse me of deception in this instance. He
+has not asked me the sum I owe--and Heaven knows I could not go and
+thrust my bills in his face. I thought perhaps there was some usurer,
+whom you had heard of, who could let me have the money. They are debts
+of honor, and must be paid."
+
+"Of _honor_!" repeated Miss Thusa, with a tone of ineffable contempt. "I
+thought you had more sense, Louis, than to talk in that nonsensical way.
+It's more--it's downright wicked. I know what it all means, well enough.
+They're debts you are ashamed of, that you had no business to make, that
+you dare not let your father know of; and yet you call them debts of
+honor."
+
+Louis rose from his seat with a haughty and offended air.
+
+"I was a fool to come," he muttered to himself; "I might have known
+better. The Evil Spirit surely prompted me."
+
+Then walking rapidly to the door, he said--
+
+"I came here for comfort and advice, Miss Thusa, according to your own
+bidding, not to listen to railings that can do no good to you or to me.
+I had been to you so often in my boyish difficulties, and found sympathy
+and kindness, I thought I should find it now. I know I do not deserve
+it, but I nevertheless expected it from you. But it is no matter. I may
+as well brave the worst at once."
+
+Snatching up his hat and pulling it over his brows, he was about to
+shoot through the door, when the long arm of Miss Thusa was interposed
+as a barrier against him.
+
+"There is no use in being angry with an old woman like me," said she, in
+a pacifying tone, just as she would soothe a fretful child. "I always
+speak what I think, and it is the truth, too--Gospel truth, and you know
+it. But come, come, sit down like a good boy, and let us talk it all
+over. There--I won't say another cross word to-night."
+
+The first smile which had lighted up the face of Louis since his return,
+flitted over his lip, as Miss Thusa pushed him down into the chair he
+had quitted, and drew her own close to it.
+
+"Now," said she, "tell me how much money you want, and I'll try to get
+it for you. Have faith in me. That can work wonders."
+
+After Louis had made an unreserved communication of the whole, she told
+him to come the next day.
+
+"I can do nothing now," said she, "but who knows what the morrow may
+bring forth?"
+
+"Who, indeed!" thought Louis, as he wended his solitary way homeward. "I
+know not why it is, but I cannot help having some reliance on the
+promises of this singular old woman. It was my perfect confidence in her
+truth and integrity that drew me to her. What her resources are, I know
+not; I fear they exist only in her own imagination; but if she should
+befriend me in this, mine extremity, may the holy angels guard and bless
+her. Alas! it is mockery for me to invoke them."
+
+The next day when he returned to her cabin, he found her spinning with
+all her accustomed solemnity. He blushed with shame, as he looked round
+on the appearance of poverty that met his eye, respectable and
+comfortable poverty, it is true--but for him to seek assistance of the
+inmate of such a dwelling! He must have thought her a sorceress, to have
+believed in the existence of such a thing. He must have been maddened to
+have admitted such an idea.
+
+"Forgive me, Miss Thusa," said he, with the frankness of the _boy_
+Louis, "forgive me for plaguing you with my troubles. I was not in my
+right senses yesterday, or I should not have done it. I have resolved to
+have no concealments from my father, and to tell him all."
+
+Miss Thusa dipped her hand in a pocket as deep as a well, which she wore
+at her right side, and taking out a well-filled and heavy purse, she put
+it in the hand of Louis.
+
+"There is something to help you a little," said she, without looking him
+in the face. "You must take it as a present from old Miss Thusa, and
+never say a word about it to a human being. That is all I ask of
+you--and it is not much. Don't thank me. Don't question me. The money
+was mine, honestly got and righteously given. One of these days I'll
+tell you where it came from, but I can't now."
+
+Louis held the purse with a bewildered air, his fingers trembling with
+emotion. Never before had he felt all the ignominy and all the shame
+which he had brought upon himself. A hot, scalding tide came rushing
+with the cataract's speed through his veins, and spreading with burning
+hue over his face.
+
+"No! I cannot, I cannot!" he exclaimed, dropping the purse, and
+clenching his hands on his brow. "I did not mean to beg of your bounty.
+I am not so lost as to wrench from your aged hand, the gold that may
+purchase comfort and luxuries for all your remaining years. No, Miss
+Thusa, my reason has returned--my sense of honor, too--I were worse than
+a robber, to take advantage of your generous offer."
+
+"Louis--Louis Gleason," cried Miss Thusa, rising from her seat, her
+tall, ancestral-looking figure assuming an air of majesty and
+command--"listen to me; if you cast that purse from you, I will never
+make use of it as long as I live, which won't be long. It will do no good
+to a human being. What do I want of money? I had rather live in this
+little, old, gray hut than the palace of the Queen of England. I had
+rather earn my bread by this wheel, than eat the food of idleness. Your
+father gives me fuel in winter, and his heart is warmed by the fire that
+he kindles for me. It does him good. It does everybody good to befriend
+another. What do I want of money? To whom in the wide world should I
+give it, but you and Helen? I have as much and more for her. My heart is
+drawn powerfully towards you two children, and it will continue to draw,
+while there is life in its fibres or blood in its veins. Take it, I
+say--and in the name of your mother in heaven, go, and sin no more."
+
+"I take it," said Louis, awed into submission and humility by her
+prophetic solemnity, "I take it as a loan, which I will labor day and
+night to return. What would my father say, if he knew of this?"
+
+"He will not know it, unless you break your word," said Miss Thusa,
+setting her wheel in motion, and wetting her fingers in the gourd. "You
+may go, now, if you will not talk of something else. I must go and get
+some more flax. I can see all the ribs of my distaff."
+
+Louis knew that this was an excuse to escape his thanks, and giving her
+hand a reverent and silent pressure, he left the cabin. Heavy as lead
+lay the purse in his pocket--heavy as lead lay the heart in his bosom.
+
+Helen met him at the door, with a radiant countenance.
+
+"Who do you think is come, brother?" she asked.
+
+"Is it Clinton?" said he.
+
+"Oh! no--it is Alice. A friend of her brother was coming directly here,
+and she accompanied him. Come and see her."
+
+"Thank God! _she_ cannot see!" exclaimed Louis, as he passed into the
+presence of the blind girl.
+
+Though no beam of pleasure irradiated her sightless eyes, her bright and
+heightening color, the eager yet tremulous tones of her voice assured
+him of a joyous welcome. Alice remembered the thousand acts of kindness
+by which he had endeared to her the very helplessness which had called
+them forth. His was the hand every ready to guide her, the arm offered
+for her support. His were the cheering accents most welcome to her ears,
+and his steps had a music which belonged to no steps but his. His image,
+reflected on the retina of the soul, was beautiful as the dream of
+imagination, an image on which time could cast no shadow, being without
+variableness or change.
+
+"Thank God," again repeated Louis to himself, "that she cannot see. I
+can read no reproach in those blue and silent orbs. I can drink in her
+pure and holy loveliness, till my spirit grows purer and holier as I
+gaze. Blessings on thee for coming, sweet and gentle Alice. As David
+charmed the evil spirit in the haunted breast of Saul, so shall thy
+divine strains lull to rest the fiends of remorse that are wrestling and
+gnawing in my bosom. The time has been when I dreamed of being thy guide
+through life, a lamp to thy blindness, and a stay and support to thy
+helpless innocence. The dream is past--I wake to the dread reality of my
+own utter unworthiness."
+
+These thoughts rose tumultuously in the breast of the young man, in the
+moment of greeting, while the soft hand of the blind girl lingered
+tremblingly in his. Without thinking of the influence it might have on
+her feelings, he sought her presence as a balm to his chafed and
+tortured heart, as a repose to his worn and weary spirit, as an anodyne
+to the agonies of remorse. The grave, sad glance of his father; the
+serious, yet tender and pitying look of his step-mother; and the
+pensive, melting, sympathizing eye of Helen, were all daggers to his
+conscience. But Alice could not see. No daggers of reproach were
+sheathed in those reposing eyes. Oh! how remorse and shame shrink from
+being arraigned before that throne of light where the immortal spirit
+sits enthroned--the human eye! If thus conscious guilt recoils from the
+gaze of man, weak, fallible, erring man, how can it stand the consuming
+fire of that Eternal Eye, in whose sight the heavens are not clean, and
+before which archangels bend, veiling their brows with their refulgent
+wings!
+
+It was about a week after the arrival of Louis and the coming of Alice,
+that, as the family were assembled round the evening fireside, a note
+was brought to Louis.
+
+"Clinton is come," cried he, in an agitated voice, "he waits me at the
+hotel."
+
+"What shall I say to him, father?" asked he, turning to Mr. Gleason,
+whose folded arms gave an air of determination to his person, which
+Louis did not like.
+
+"Come with me into the next room, Louis," said Mr. Gleason, and Louis
+followed with a firm step but a sinking heart.
+
+"I have reflected deeply, deliberately, prayerfully on this subject, my
+son, since we last discussed it, and the result is this: I cannot, while
+such dark doubts disturb my mind, I cannot, consistent with my duty as a
+father and a Christian, allow this young man to be domesticated in my
+family again. If I wrong him, may God forgive me--but if I wrong my own
+household, I fear He never will."
+
+"I cannot go--I will not go!" exclaimed Louis, dashing the note on the
+floor. "This is the last brimming drop in the cup of humiliation,
+bitterer than all the rest."
+
+"Louis, Louis, have you not merited humiliation? Have _you_ a right to
+murmur at the decree? Have I upbraided you for the anxious days and
+sleepless nights you have occasioned me? For my blasted hopes and
+embittered joys? No, Louis. I saw that your own heart condemned you, and
+I left you to your God, who is greater than your own heart and mine!"
+
+"Oh, father!" cried Louis, melted at once by this pathetic and solemn
+appeal, "I know I have no right to claim any thing at your hands, but I
+beg, I supplicate--not for myself--but another!"
+
+"'Tis in vain, Louis. Urge me no more. On this point I am inflexible.
+But, since it is so painful to you, I will go myself and openly avow the
+reasons of my conduct."
+
+"No, sir," exclaimed Louis, "not for the world. I will go at once."
+
+He turned suddenly and quitted the apartment, and then the house, with a
+half-formed resolution of fleeing to the wild woods, and never more
+returning.
+
+Mittie, who was fortunately in her room above, (fortunately, we say, for
+her presence would have been as fuel to flame,) heard the quick opening
+and shutting of doors, and the sound of rapid steps on the flag-stones
+of the yard.
+
+"Louis, Louis," she cried, opening the window and recognizing his figure
+in the star-lit night, "whither are you going?"
+
+"To perdition!" was the passionate reply.
+
+"Oh, Louis, speak and tell me truly, is Clinton come?"
+
+"He is."
+
+"And you are going to bring him here?"
+
+"No, never, never! Now shut the window. You have heard enough."
+
+Yes, she had heard enough! The sash fell from her hand, and a pane of
+glass, shivered by the fall, flew partly in shining particles against
+her dress, and partly lay scattered on the snowy ground. A fragment
+rebounded, and glanced upon her forehead, making the blood-drops trickle
+down her cheek. Wiping them off with her handkerchief, she gazed on the
+crimson stain, and remembering her bleeding fingers when they parted,
+and Miss Thusa's legend of the Maiden's Bleeding Heart, she
+involuntarily put her hand to her own to feel if it were not bleeding,
+too. All the strong and passionate love which had been smouldering
+there, beneath the ashes of sullen pride, struggling for vent, heaved
+the bosom where it was concealed. And with this love there blazed a
+fiercer flame, indignation against her father for the prohibition that
+raised a barrier between herself and Bryant Clinton. One moment she
+resolved to rush down stairs and give utterance to the vehement anger
+that threatened to suffocate her by repression; the next, the image of a
+stern, rebuking father, inflexible in his will, checked her rash design.
+Had she been in his presence and heard the interdiction repeated, her
+resentful feelings would have burst forth; but, daring as she was, there
+was some restraining influence over her passions.
+
+Then she reflected that parental prohibitions were as the gossamer web
+before the strength of real love,--that though Clinton was forbidden to
+meet her in her father's house, the world was wide enough to furnish a
+trysting-place elsewhere. Let him but breathe the word, she was ready to
+fly with him from zone to zone, believing that even the frozen regions
+of Lapland would be converted into a blooming Paradise by the magic of
+his love. But what if he loved her no more, as Helen had asserted? What
+if Helen had indeed supplanted her?
+
+"No, no!" cried she, aloud, shrinking from the dark and evil thoughts
+that came gliding into her soul; "no, no, I will not think of it! It
+would drive me mad!"
+
+It was past midnight when Louis returned, and the light still burned in
+Mittie's chamber. The moment she heard his step on the flag-stones, she
+sprang to the window and opened it. The cold night air blew chill on her
+feverish and burning face, but she heeded it not.
+
+"Louis," she said, "wait. I will come down and open the door."
+
+"It is not fastened," he replied; "it is not likely that I am barred out
+also. Go to bed, Mittie--for Heaven's sake, go to bed."
+
+But, throwing off her slippers, she flew down stairs, the carpet
+muffling the sound of her footsteps, and met her brother on the
+threshold.
+
+"Why will you do this, Mittie?" cried he, impatiently. "Do go back--I am
+cold and weary, and want to go to bed."
+
+"Only tell me one thing--have you no message for me?"
+
+"None."
+
+"When does he go away?"
+
+"I don't know. But one thing I can tell you; if you value your peace
+and happiness, let not your heart anchor its hopes on him. Look upon all
+that is past as mere gallantry on his side, and the natural drawing of
+youth to youth on yours. Come this way," drawing her into the
+sitting-room, where the dying embers still communicated warmth to the
+apartment, and shed a dim, lurid light on their faces. "Though my head
+aches as if red-hot wires were passing through it, I must guard you at
+once against this folly. You know so little of the world, Mittie, you
+don't understand the manners of young men, especially when first
+released from college. There is a chivalry about them which converts
+every young lady into an angel, and they address them as such. Their
+attentions seldom admit a more serious construction. Besides--but no
+matter--I have said enough, I hope, to rouse the pride of your sex, and
+to induce you to banish Clinton from your thoughts. Good-night."
+
+Though he tried to speak carelessly, he was evidently much agitated.
+
+"Good-night," he again repeated, but Mittie stood motionless as a
+statue, looking steadfastly on the glimmering embers. "Go up stairs," he
+cried, taking her cold hand, and leading her to the door, "you will be
+frozen if you stay here much longer."
+
+"I am frozen already," she answered, shuddering, "good night."
+
+The next morning, when the housemaid went into her room to kindle a
+fire, she was startled by the appearance of a muffled figure seated at
+the window, with the head leaning against the casement; the face was as
+white as the snow on the landscape. It was Mittie. She had not laid her
+head upon the pillow the whole live-long night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+    "Beautiful tyrant--fiend angelical--
+    Dove-feathered raven!--wolf-devouring lamb--
+    Oh, serpent heart--hid in a flowering cave,
+    Did e'er deceit dwell in so fair a mansion!"--_Shakspeare._
+
+    "Pray for the dead.
+    Why for the dead, who are at rest?
+    Pray for the living, in whose breast
+    The struggle between right and wrong
+    Is raging terrible and strong."--_Longfellow._
+
+
+"Are you willing to remain with her alone, all night?" asked the young
+doctor.
+
+Helen glanced towards the figure reclining on the bed, whose length
+appeared almost supernatural, and whose appearance was rendered more
+gloomy by the dun-colored counterpane that enveloped it--and though her
+countenance changed, she answered, "Yes."
+
+"Have you no fears that the old superstitions of your childhood will
+resume their influence over your imagination, in the stillness of the
+midnight hour?"
+
+"I wish to subject myself to the trial. I am not quite sure of myself. I
+know there is no real danger, and it is time that I should battle
+single-handed with all imaginary foes."
+
+"But supposing your parents should object?"
+
+"You must tell them how very ill she is, and how much she wishes me to
+remain with her. I think they will rejoice in my determination--rejoice
+that their poor, weak Helen has any energy of purpose, any will or power
+to be useful."
+
+"If you knew half your strength, half your power, Helen, I fear you
+would abuse it."
+
+A bright flame flashed up from the dark, serene depths of his eyes, and
+played on Helen's downcast face. She had seen its kindling, and now
+felt its warmth glowing in her cheek, and in her inmost heart. The
+large, old clock behind the door, struck the hour loudly, with its
+metallic hands. Arthur started and looked at his watch.
+
+"I did not think it was so late," he exclaimed, rising in haste. "I have
+a patient to visit, whom I promised to be with before this time. Do you
+know, Helen, we have been talking at least two hours by this fireside?
+Miss Thusa slumbers long."
+
+He went to the bedside, felt of the sleeper's pulse, listened
+attentively to her deep, irregular breathing, and then returned to
+Helen.
+
+"The opiate she has taken will probably keep her in a quiet state during
+the night--if not, you will recollect the directions I have given--and
+administer the proper remedies. Does not your courage fail, now I am
+about to leave you? Have you no misgivings now?"
+
+"I don't know. If I have, I will not express them. I am resolved on
+self-conquest, and your doubts of my courage only serve to strengthen my
+resolution."
+
+Arthur smiled--"I see you have a will of your own, Helen, under that
+gentle, child-like exterior, to which mine is forced to bend. But I will
+not suffer you to be beyond the reach of assistance. I will send a woman
+to sleep in the kitchen, whom you can call, if you require her aid. As I
+told you before, I do not apprehend any immediate danger, though I do
+not think she will rise from that bed again."
+
+Helen sighed, and tears gathered in her eyes. She accompanied Arthur to
+the door, that she might put the strong bar across it, which was Miss
+Thusa's substitute for a lock.
+
+"Perhaps I may call on my return," said he, "but it is very doubtful.
+Take care of yourself and keep warm. And if any unfavorable change takes
+place, send the woman for me. And now good-night--dear, good, brave
+Helen. May God bless, and angels watch over you."
+
+He pressed her hand, wrapped his cloak around him, and left Helen to her
+solitary vigils. She lifted the massy bar with trembling hands, and slid
+it into the iron hooks, fitted to receive it. Her hands trembled, but
+not from fear, but delight. Arthur had called her "dear and brave"--and
+long after she had reseated herself by the lonely hearth, the echo of
+his gentle, manly accents, seemed floating round the walls.
+
+The illness of Miss Thusa was very sudden. She had risen in the morning
+in usual health, and pursued until noon her customary occupation--when,
+all at once, as she told the young doctor, "it seemed as if a knife went
+through her heart, and a wedge into her brain--and she was sure it was a
+death-stroke." For the first time, in the course of her long life, she
+was obliged to take her bed, and there she lay in helplessness and
+loneliness, unable to summon relief. The young doctor called in the
+afternoon as a friend, and found his services imperatively required as a
+physician. The only wish she expressed was to have Helen with her, and
+as soon as he had relieved the sufferings of his patient, Arthur brought
+Helen to the Hermitage. When she arrived, Miss Thusa was under the
+influence of an opiate, but opening her heavy eyes, a ray of light
+emanated from the dim, gray orbs, as Helen, pale and awe-struck,
+approached her bedside. She was appalled at seeing that powerful frame
+so suddenly prostrated--she was shocked at the change a few hours had
+wrought in those rough, but commanding features. The large eye-balls
+looked sunken, and darkly shaded below, while a wan, gray tint, melting
+off into a bluish white on the temples, was spread over the face.
+
+"You will stay with me to-night, my child," said she, in a voice
+strangely altered. "I've got something to tell you--and the time is
+come."
+
+"Yes. I will stay with you as long as you wish, Miss Thusa," replied
+Helen, passing her hand softly over the hoary looks that shaded the brow
+of the sufferer. "I will nurse you so tenderly, that you will soon be
+well again."
+
+"Good child--blessed child!" murmured she, closing her eyes beneath the
+slumberous weight of the anodyne, and sinking into a deep sleep.
+
+And now Helen sat alone, watching the aged friend, whose strongly-marked
+and peculiar character had had so great an influence on her own. For
+awhile the echo of Arthur's parting words made so much music in her ear,
+it drowned the harsh, solemn ticking of the old clock, and stole like a
+sweet lullaby over her spirit. But gradually the ticking sounded louder
+and louder, and her loneliness pressed heavily upon her. There was a
+little, dark, walnut table, standing on three curiously wrought legs, in
+a corner of the room. On this a large Bible, covered with dark, linen
+cloth, was laid, and on the top of this Miss Thusa's spectacles, with
+the bows crossing each other, like the stiffened arms of a corpse. Helen
+could not bear to look upon those spectacles, which had always seemed to
+her an inseparable part of Miss Thusa, lying so still and melancholy
+there. She took them up reverently, and laid them on a shelf, then
+drawing the table near the fire, or rather carrying it, so as not to
+awaken the sleeper, she opened the sacred book. The first words which
+happened to meet her eye, were--
+
+"Where is God, my Maker, who giveth me songs in the night?"
+
+The pious heart of the young girl thrilled as she read this beautiful
+and appropriate text.
+
+"Surely, oh God, Thou art here," was the unspoken language of that
+young, believing heart, "here in this lonely cottage, here by this bed
+of sickness, and here also in this trembling, fearing, yet trusting
+spirit. In every life-beat throbbing in my veins, Thy awful steps I
+hear. Yet Thou canst not come, Thou canst not go, for Thou art ever
+near, unseen, yet felt, an all pervading, glorious presence."
+
+Had any one seen Helen, seated by that solitary hearth, with her hands
+clasped over those holy pages, her mild, devotional eyes raised to
+Heaven, the light quivering in a halo round her brow, they might have
+imagined her a young Saint, or a young Sister of Charity, ministering to
+the sufferings of that world whose pleasures she had abjured.
+
+A low knock was heard at the door. It must be the young doctor, for who
+else would call at such an hour? Yet Helen hesitated and trembled,
+holding her breath to listen, thinking it possible it was but the
+pressure of the wind, or some rat tramping within the walls. But when
+the knock was repeated, with a little more emphasis, she took the lamp,
+entered the narrow passage, closing the door softly after her, removed
+the massy bar, certain of beholding the countenance which was the
+sunlight of her soul. What was her astonishment and terror, on seeing
+instead the never-to-be-forgotten face and form of Bryant Clinton. Had
+she seen one of those awful figures which Miss Thusa used to describe,
+she would scarcely have been more appalled than by the unexpected sight
+of this transcendently handsome young man.
+
+"Is terror the only emotion I can inspire--after so long an absence,
+too?" he asked, seizing her hand in both his, and riveting upon her his
+wonderfully expressive, dark blue eyes. "Forgive me if I have alarmed
+you, but forbidden your father's house, and knowing your presence here,
+I have dared to come hither that I might see you one moment before I
+leave these regions, perhaps forever."
+
+"Impossible, Mr. Clinton," cried Helen, recovering, in some measure,
+from her consternation, though her color came and went like the beacon's
+revolving flame. "I cannot see you at this unseasonable hour. There is a
+sick, a very sick person in the nest room with whom I am watching. I
+cannot ask you to come in. Besides," she added, with a dignity that
+enchanted the bold intruder, "if I cannot see you in my father's house,
+it is not proper that I see you at all." She drew back quickly, uttering
+a hasty "Good-night," and was about to close the door, when Clinton
+glided in, shutting the door after him.
+
+"You must hear me, Helen," said he, in that sweet, low voice, peculiar
+to himself. "Had it not been for you I should never have returned. I
+told you once that I loved you, but if I loved you then I must adore you
+now. You are ten thousand times more lovely. Helen, you do not know how
+charming, how beautiful you are. You do not know the enthusiastic
+devotion, the deathless passion you have inspired."
+
+"I cannot conceive of such depths of falsehood," exclaimed Helen, her
+timid eyes kindling with indignation; "all this have you said to Mittie,
+and far more, and she, mistaken girl, believes you true."
+
+"I deceived myself, alas!" cried he, in a tone of bitter sorrow. "I
+thought I loved her, for I had not yet seen and known her gentler,
+lovelier sister. Forgive me, Helen--love is not the growth of our will.
+'Tis a flower that springs spontaneously in the human heart, of
+celestial fragrance, and destined to immortal bloom."
+
+"If I thought you really loved me," said Helen, in a softened tone,
+shrinking from the fascination of his glance, and the sorcery of his
+voice, "I should feel great and exceeding sorrow--for it would be in
+vain. But the love that I have imagined is of a very different nature.
+Slowly kindled, it burns with steady and unceasing glory, unchanging as
+the sun, and eternal as the soul."
+
+Helen paused with a burning flush, fearful that she had revealed the one
+secret of her heart so lately revealed to herself, and Clinton resumed
+his passionate declarations.
+
+"If you will not go," said she, all her terror returning at the
+vehemence of his suit, "if you will not go," looking wildly at the door
+that separated her from the sick room, "I will leave you here. You dare
+not follow me. The destroying angel guards this threshold."
+
+In her excitement she knew not what she uttered. The words came unbidden
+from her lips. She laid her hand on the latch, but Clinton caught hold
+of it ere she had time to lift it.
+
+"You shall not leave me, by heaven, you shall not, till you have
+answered one question. Is it for the cold, calculating Arthur Hazleton
+you reject such love as mine?"
+
+Instead of uttering an indignant denial to this sudden and vehement
+interrogation, Helen trembled and turned pale. Her natural timidity and
+sensitiveness returned with overpowering influence; and added to these,
+a keen sense of shame at being accused of an unsolicited attachment, a
+charge she could not with truth repel, humbled and oppressed her.
+
+    "A murderous guilt shows not itself more soon
+    Than love that would seem hid."
+
+So thought Helen, while shrinking from the glance that gleamed upon her,
+like blue steel flashing in the sunbeams. Yes! Arthur Hazleton _was_
+cold compared to Clinton. He loved her even as he did Alice, with a
+calm, brotherly affection, and that was all. He had never praised her
+beauty or attractions--never offered the slightest incense to her vanity
+or pride. Sometimes he had uttered indirect expressions, which had made
+her bosom throb wildly with hope, but humility soon chastened the
+emotion which delicacy taught her to conceal. Cold indeed sounded the
+warmest phrase he had ever addressed her, "God bless you, dear, good,
+brave Helen," to Clinton's romantic and impassioned language, though,
+when it fell from his lips, it passed with such melting warmth into her
+heart. Swift as a swallow's flight these thoughts darted through Helen's
+mind, and gave an indecision and embarrassment to her manner, which
+emboldened Clinton with hopes of success. All at once her countenance
+changed. The strangeness of her situation, the lateness of the hour, the
+impropriety of receiving such a visitor in that little dark, narrow
+passage--the dread of Arthur's coming in, and finding her alone with her
+dreaded though splendid companion--the fear that Miss Thusa might waken
+and require her assistance--the vision of her father's displeasure and
+Mittie's jealous wrath--all swept in a stormy gust before her, driving
+away every consideration but one--the desire for escape, and the
+determination to effect it. The apprehension of awaking Miss Thusa, by
+rushing into her room, died in the grasp of a greater terror.
+
+"Let me go," she exclaimed, wrenching her hand from his tightening hold.
+"Let me go. You madden me."
+
+In her haste to open the door the latch rattled, and the door swung to
+with a violence that called forth a groan from the awakening sleeper.
+Turning the wooden button that fastened it on the inside, she sunk down
+into the first seat in her reach, and a dark shadow, flecked with sparks
+of fire, floated before her eyes. Chill and dizzy, she thought she was
+going to faint, when her name, pronounced distinctly by Miss Thusa,
+recalled her bewildered senses. She rose, and it seemed as if the bed
+came to her, for she was not conscious of walking to it, but she found
+herself bending over the patient and looking steadfastly into her
+clouded eyes.
+
+"Helen, my dear," said she, "I feel a great deal better. I must have
+slept a long time. Have I not? Give me a little water. There, now sit
+down close by my bed and listen. If that knife cuts my breath again, I
+shall have to give up talking. Just raise my head a little, and hand me
+my spectacles off the big Bible. I can't talk without them. But how dim
+the glasses are. Wipe them for me, child. There's dust settled on
+them."
+
+Helen took the glasses and wiped them with her soft linen handkerchief,
+but she sighed as she did so, well knowing that it was the eyes that
+were growing dim instead of the crystal that covered them.
+
+"A little better--a little better," said the spinster, looking wistfully
+towards the candle. "Now, Helen, my dear, just step into the other room
+and bring here my wheel. It is heavy, but not beyond your strength. I
+always bring it in here at night, but I can't do it now. I was taken
+sick so sudden, I forgot it. It's my stay-by and stand-by--you know."
+
+Helen looked so startled and wild, that Miss Thusa imagined her struck
+with superstitious terror at the thought of going alone into another
+room.
+
+"I'm sorry to see you've not outgrown your weaknesses," said she. "It's
+my fault, I'm afraid, but I hope the Lord will forgive me for it."
+
+Helen was not afraid of the lonely room, so near and so lately occupied,
+but she was afraid of encountering Clinton, who might be lingering by
+the open door. But Miss Thusa's request, sick and helpless as she was,
+had the authority of a command, and she rose to obey her. She barred the
+outer door without catching the gleam of Clinton's dark, shining hair,
+and having brought the wheel, with panting breath, for it was indeed
+very heavy, sat down with a feeling of security and relief, since the
+enemy was now shut out by double barriers. One window was partly raised
+to admit the air to Miss Thusa's oppressed lungs, but they were both
+fastened above.
+
+"You had better not exert yourself, Miss Thusa," said Helen, after
+giving her the medicine which the doctor had prescribed. "You are not
+strong enough to talk much now."
+
+"I shall never be stronger, my child. My day is almost spent, and the
+night cometh, wherein no man can work. I always thought I should have a
+sudden call, and when I was struck with that sharp pain, I knew my
+Master was knocking at the door. The Lord be praised, I don't want to
+bar him out. I'm ready and willing to go, willing to close my long and
+lonely life. I have had few to love, and few to care for me, but, thank
+God, the one I love best of all does not forsake me in my last hour.
+Helen, darling, God bless you--God bless you, my blessed child."
+
+The voice of the aged spinster faltered, and tear after tear trickled
+like wintry rain down her furrowed cheeks. All the affections of a
+naturally warm and generous heart lingered round the young girl, who was
+still to her the little child whom she had cradled in her arms, and
+hushed into the stillness of awe by her ghostly legends. Helen,
+inexpressibly affected, leaned her head on Miss Thusa's pillow, and wept
+and sobbed audibly. She did not know, till this moment, how strong and
+deep-rooted was her attachment for this singular and isolated being.
+There was an individuality, a grandeur in her character, to which
+Helen's timid, upward-looking spirit paid spontaneous homage. The wild
+sweep of her imagination, always kept within the limits of the purest
+morality, her stern sense of justice, tempered by sympathy and
+compassion, and the tenderness and sensibility that so often softened
+her harsh and severe lineaments, commanded her respect and admiration.
+Even her person, which was generally deemed ungainly and unattractive,
+was invested with majesty and a certain grace in Helen's partial eyes.
+She was old--but hers was the sublimity of age without its infirmity,
+the hoariness of winter without its chillness. It seemed impossible to
+associate with her the idea of dissolution. Yet there she lay, helpless
+as an infant, with no more strength to resist the Almighty's will, than
+a feather to hurl back the force of the whirlwind.
+
+"You see that wheel, Helen," said she, recovering her usual calmness--"I
+told you that I should bequeath it, as a legacy, to you. Don't despise
+the homely gift. You see those brass bands, with grooves in them--just
+screw them to the right as hard as you can--a little harder."
+
+Helen screwed and twisted till her slender wrists ached, when the brass
+suddenly parted, and a number of gold pieces rolled upon the floor.
+
+"Pick them up, and put them back," said Miss Thusa, "and screw it up
+again--all the joints will open in that way. The wood is hollowed out
+and filled with gold, which I bequeath to you. My will is in there, too,
+made by the lawyers where I found the money. You remember when that
+advertisement was put in the papers, and I went on that journey, part
+of the way with you. Well, I must tell you the shortest way, though it's
+a long story. It was written by a lady, on her death-bed, a widow lady,
+who had no children, and a large property of her own. You don't remember
+my brother, but your father does. He was a hater of the world, and
+almost made me one. Well, it seemed he had a cause for his misanthropy
+which I never knew of, for when he was a young man he went away from
+home, and we didn't hear from him for years. When he came back, he was
+sad and sickly, and wanted to get into some little quiet place, where
+nobody would molest him. Then it was we came to this little cabin, where
+he died, in this very room, and this very bed, too."
+
+Miss Thusa paused, and the room and the bed seemed all at once clothed
+with supernatural solemnity, by the sad consecration of death. Death had
+been there--death was waiting there.
+
+"Oh! Miss Thusa, you are faint and weary. Do stop and rest, I pray you,"
+cried Helen, bathing her forehead with camphor, and holding a glass of
+water to her lips.
+
+But the unnatural strength which opium gives, sustained her, and she
+continued her narrative.
+
+"This lady, when young, had loved and been betrothed to my brother, and
+then forsook him for a wealthier man. It was that which ruined him, and
+I never knew it. He had one of those still natures, where the waters of
+sorrow lie deep as a well. They never overflow. She told me that she
+never had had one happy moment from the time she married, and that her
+conscience gnawed her for her broken faith. Her husband died, and left
+her a rich widow, without a child to leave her property to. After a
+while she fell sick of a long and lingering disease, for which there is
+no cure. Then she thought if she could leave her money to my brother, or
+he being dead, to some of his kin, she could die with more comfort. So,
+she put the advertisement in the paper, which you all saw. I didn't want
+the money, and wanted to come away without it, but she sent for a
+lawyer, and had it all fastened upon me by deeds and writings, whether I
+was willing or not. She didn't live but a few days after I got there.
+The lawyer was very kind, and assisted me in my plans, though he
+thought them very odd. There is no need of wasting my breath in telling
+how I had the money changed into gold, and the wheel fixed in the way
+you see it, after a fashion of my own. I would not have touched one cent
+of it, had it not been for you, and next to you, that poor boy, Louis. I
+didn't want any one to know it, and be dinning in my ears about money
+from morning to night. I had no use for it myself, for habits don't
+change when the winter of life is begun. There is no use for it in the
+dark grave to which I am hastening. There is no use for it near the
+great white throne of God, where I shall shortly stand. When I am dead
+and gone, Helen, take that wheel home, and give it a place wherever you
+are, for old Miss Thusa's sake. I really think--I'm a strange, foolish
+old woman--but I really think I should like to have its likeness painted
+on my coffin lid. A kind of coat-of-arms, you know, child."
+
+Miss Thusa did not relate all this without pausing many times for
+breath, and when she concluded she closed her eyes, exhausted by the
+effort she had made. In a short time she again slept, and Helen sat
+pondering in mute amazement over the disclosure made by one whom she had
+imagined so very indigent. The gold weighed heavy on her mind. It did
+not seem real, so strangely acquired, so mysteriously concealed. It
+reminded her of the tales of the genii, more than of the actualities of
+every day life. She prayed that Miss Thusa might live and take care of
+it herself for long years to come.
+
+Several times during the recital, she thought she heard a sound at the
+window, but when she turned her head to ascertain the cause, she saw
+nothing but the curtain slightly fluttering in the wind that crept in at
+the opening, with a soft, sighing sound.
+
+It was the first time she had ever watched with the sick, and she found
+it a very solemn thing. Yet with all the solemnity and gloom brooding
+over her, she felt inexpressible gratitude that she was not haunted by
+the spectral illusions of her childhood. Reason was no longer the
+vassal, but the monarch of imagination, and though the latter often
+proved a restless and wayward subject, it acknowledged the former as
+its legitimate sovereign.
+
+Miss Thusa, lying so rigid and immovable on her back, with her hands
+crossed on her breast, a white linen handkerchief folded over her head
+and fastened under the chin, looked so resembling death, that it was
+difficult to think of her as a living, breathing thing. Helen gazed upon
+her with indescribable awe, sometimes believing it was nothing but
+soulless clay before her, but even then she gazed without horror. Her
+exceeding terror of death was gone, without her being conscious of its
+departure. It was like the closing of a dark abyss--there was _terra
+firma_, where an awful chasm had been. There was more terror to her in
+the vitality burning in her own heart, than in that poor, enfeebled
+form. How strong were its pulsations! how loud they sounded in the
+midnight stillness!--louder than the death-watch that ticked by the
+hearth. To escape from the beatings of "this muffled drum" of life, she
+went to the window, and partly drawing aside the curtain, breathed on a
+pane of glass, so that the gauzy web the frost had woven might melt away
+and admit the vertical rays of the midnight moon. How beautiful, how
+resplendent was the scene that was spread out before her! She had not
+thought before of looking abroad, and it was the first time the solemn
+glories of the noon of night had unfolded to her view. In the morning a
+drizzling rain had fallen, which had frozen as it fell on the branches
+of the leafless trees, and now on every little twig hung pendant
+diamonds, glittering in the moonbeams. The ground was partially covered
+with snow, but where it lay bare, it was powdered with diamond dust. A
+silvery net-work was drawn over the windows, save one clear spot, which
+her melting breath had made. She looked up to the moon, shining so high,
+so lone on the pale azure of a wintry heaven, and felt an impulse to
+kneel down and worship it, as the loveliest, holiest image of the
+Creator's goodness and love. How tranquil, how serene, how soft, yet
+glorious it shone forth from the still depths of ether! What a divine
+melancholy it diffused over the sleeping earth! Helen felt as she often
+did when looking up into the eyes of Arthur Hazleton. So tranquil, so
+serene, yet so glorious were their beams to her, and so silently and
+holily did they sink into the soul.
+
+In the morning the young doctor found his patient in the same feeble,
+slumberous state. There was no apparent change either for better or
+worse, and he thought it probable she might linger days and even weeks,
+gradually sinking, till she slept the last great sleep.
+
+"You look weary and languid, Helen," said he, anxiously regarding the
+young watcher, "I hope nothing disturbed your lonely vigils. I
+endeavored to return, that I might relieve you, in some measure, of your
+fatiguing duty, but was detained the whole night."
+
+Helen thought of the terror she had suffered from Clinton's intrusion,
+but she did not like to speak of it. Perhaps he had already left the
+neighborhood, and it seemed ungenerous and useless to betray him.
+
+"I certainly had no ghostly visitors," said she, "and what is more, I
+did not fear them. All unreal phantasies fled before that sad reality,"
+looking on the wan features of Miss Thusa.
+
+"I see you have profited by the discipline of the last twelve hours,"
+cried Arthur, "and it was most severe, for one of your temperament and
+early habits. I have heard it said," he added, thoughtfully, "that those
+who follow my profession, become callous and indifferent to human
+suffering--that their nerves are steeled, and their hearts
+indurated--but I do not find it the case with me; I never approach the
+bedside of the sick and the dying without deep and solemn emotion. I
+feel nearer the grave, nearer to Heaven and God."
+
+"No--I am sure it cannot be said of you," said Helen, earnestly, "you
+are always kind and sympathizing--quick to relieve, and slow to inflict
+pain."
+
+"Ah, Helen, you forget how cruel I was in forcing you back, where the
+deadly viper had been coiled; in making you take that dark, solitary
+walk in search of the sleeping Alice; and even last night I might have
+spared you your lonely night watch, if I would. Had I told you that you
+were too inexperienced and inefficient to be a good nurse, you would
+have believed me and yielded your place, or at least shared it with
+another. Do you still think me kind?"
+
+"Most kind, even when most exacting," she replied. Whenever her feelings
+were excited, her deep feelings of joy as well as sorrow, Helen's eyes
+always glistened. This peculiarity gave a soft, pensive expression to
+her countenance that was indescribably winning, and made her smile from
+the effect of contrast enchantingly sweet.
+
+The glistening eye and the enchanting smile that followed these words,
+or rather accompanied them, were not altogether lost on Arthur.
+
+Mrs. Gleason came to relieve Helen from the care of nursing, and
+insisted upon her immediate return home. Helen obeyed with reluctance,
+claiming the privilege of resuming her watch again at night. She wanted
+to be with Miss Thusa in her last moments. She had a sublime curiosity
+to witness the last strife of body and soul, the separation of the
+visible and the invisible; but when night came on, exhausted nature
+sought renovation in the deepest slumbers that had ever wrapped her.
+Arthur, perceiving some change in his patient, resolved to remain with
+her himself, having hired a woman to act as subordinate nurse during
+Miss Thusa's sickness. She occupied the kitchen as bed-room--an
+apartment running directly back of the sick chamber.
+
+Miss Thusa's strength was slowly, gently wasting. Disease had struck her
+at first like a sharp poignard, but life flowed away from the wound
+without much after suffering. The greater part of the time she lay in a
+comatose state, from which it was difficult to rouse her.
+
+Arthur sat by the fire, with a book in his hand, which at times seemed
+deeply to interest him, and at others, he dropped it in his lap, and
+gazing intently into the glowing coals, appeared absorbed in the
+mysteries of thought.
+
+About midnight, when reverie had deepened into slumber, he was startled
+by a low knock at the door. He had not fastened it as elaborately as
+Helen had done, and quickly and noiselessly opening it, he demanded who
+was there. It was a young boy, bearing him a note from the family he had
+visited the preceding night. His patient was attacked with some very
+alarming symptoms, and begged his immediate attendance. Having wakened
+the woman and commissioned her to watch during his absence, Arthur
+departed, surprised at the unexpected summons, as he had seen the
+patient at twilight, who then appeared in a fair way of recovery. His
+surprise was still greater, when arriving at the house he found that no
+summons had been sent for him, no note written, but the whole household
+were wrapped in peaceful slumbers. The note, which he carried in his
+pocket, was pronounced a forgery, and must have been written with some
+dark and evil design. But what could it be? Who could wish to draw him
+away from that poor, lone cottage, that poor sick, dying woman? It was
+strange, inexplicable.
+
+Mr. Mason, the gentleman in whose name the note had been written, and
+who fortunately happened to be the sheriff of the county, insisted upon
+accompanying him back to the cottage, and aiding him to discover its
+mysterious purpose. It might be a silly plot of some silly boy, but that
+did not seem at all probable, as Arthur was so universally respected and
+beloved--and such was the dignity and affability of his character, that
+no one would think of playing upon him a foolish and insulting trick.
+
+The distance was not great, and they walked with rapid footsteps over
+the crisp and frozen ground. Around the cabin, the snow formed a thick
+carpet, which, lying in shade, had not been glazed, like the general
+surface of the landscape. Their steps did not resound on this white
+covering, and instead of crossing the stile in front of the cabin, they
+vaulted over the fence and approached the door by a side path. The
+moment Arthur laid his hand upon the latch he knew some one had entered
+the house during his absence, for he had closed the door, and now it was
+ajar. With one bound he cleared the passage, and Mr. Mason, who was a
+tall and strong man, was not left much in the rear. The inner door was
+not latched, and opened at the touch. The current of air which rushed in
+with their sudden entrance rolled into the chimney, and the fire flashed
+up and roared, illuminating every object within. Near the centre of the
+room stood a man, wrapped in a dark cloak that completely concealed his
+figure, a dark mask covering his face, and a fur cap pulled deep over
+his forehead. He stood by the side of Miss Thusa's wheel, which
+presented the appearance of a ruin, with its brazen bands wrenched
+asunder, and its fragments strewed upon the floor. He was evidently
+arrested in the act of destruction, for one hand grasped the distaff,
+the other clinched something which he sought to conceal in the folds of
+his cloak.
+
+Miss Thusa, partly raised on her elbow, which shook and trembled from
+the weight it supported, was gazing with impotent despair on her
+dismembered wheel. A dim fire quivered in her sunken eyes, and her
+sharpened and prominent features were made still more ghastly by the
+opaque frame-work of white linen that surrounded them. She was uttering
+faint and broken ejaculations.
+
+"Monster--robber!--my treasure! Take the gold--take it, but spare my
+wheel! Poor Helen! I gave it to her! Poor child! It's she you are
+robbing, not me! Oh, my God! my heart-strings are breaking! My wheel,
+that I loved like a human being! Lord, Lord, have mercy upon me!"
+
+These piteous exclamations met the ear of Arthur as he entered the room,
+and roused all the latent wrath of his nature. He forgot every thing but
+the dark, masked figure which, gathering up its cloak, sprang towards
+the door, with the intention of escaping, but an iron grasp held it
+back. Seldom, indeed, were the strong but subdued passions of Arthur
+Hazleton suffered to master him, but now they had the ascendency. He
+never thought of calling on Mr. Mason to assist him quietly in securing
+the robber, as he might have done, but yielding to an irresistible
+impulse of vengeance, he grappled fiercely with the mask, who writhed
+and struggled in his unclinching hold. Something fell rattling on the
+floor, and continued to rattle as the strife went on. Mr. Mason, knowing
+that by virtue of his authority he could arrest the offender at once,
+looked on with that strange pleasure which men feel in witnessing scenes
+of conflict. He was astonished at the transformation of the young
+doctor. He had always seen him so calm and gentle in the chamber of
+sickness, so peaceful in his intercourse with his fellow-men, that he
+did not know the lamb could be thus changed into the lion.
+
+Arthur had now effected his object, in unmasking and uncloaking his
+antagonist, and he found himself face to face with--Bryant Clinton. The
+young men stood gazing at each other for a few moments in perfect
+silence. They were both of an ashy paleness, and their eyes glittered
+under the shadow of their darkened brows. But Clinton could not long
+sustain that steadfast, victor glance. His own wavered and fell, and the
+blood swept over his face in a reddening wave.
+
+"Let me go," said he, in a low, husky voice, "I am in your power; but be
+magnanimous and release me. I throw myself on your generosity, not your
+justice."
+
+Arthur's sternly upbraiding eye softened into an expression of the
+deepest sorrow, not unmingled with contempt, on beholding the
+degradation of this splendidly endowed young man. He reminded him of a
+fallen angel, with his glorious plumage all soiled and polluted with the
+mire and corruption of earth. He never had had faith in his integrity;
+be believed him to be the tempter of Louis, the deceiver of Mittie,
+reckless and unprincipled where pleasure was concerned, but he did not
+believe him capable of such a daring transgression. Had he been alone,
+he would have released him, for his magnanimity and generosity would
+have triumphed over his sense of justice, but legal authority was
+present, and to that he was forced to submit.
+
+"_I_ arrest you, sir, in virtue of my authority as sheriff of the
+county," exclaimed Mr. Mason; "empty your pockets of the gold you have
+purloined from this woman, and then follow me. Quick, or I'll give you
+rough aid."
+
+The pomp and aristocracy of Clinton's appearance and manners had made
+him unpopular in the neighborhood, and it is not strange that a man whom
+he had never condescended to notice should triumph in his disgrace. He
+looked on with vindictive pleasure while Clinton, after a useless
+resistance, produced the gold he had secreted, but Arthur turned away
+his head in shame. He could not bear to witness the depth of his
+degradation. His cheek burned with painful blushes, as the gold clinked
+on the table, ringing forth the tale of Clinton's guilt.
+
+"Now, sir, come along," cried the stern voice of the sheriff. "Doctor, I
+leave the care of this to you."
+
+While he was speaking, he drew a pair of hand-cuffs from his pocket,
+which he had slipped in before leaving home, thinking they might come in
+use.
+
+"You shall not degrade me thus!" exclaimed Clinton, haughtily, writhing
+in his grasp; "you shall never put those vile things on me!"
+
+"Softly, softly, young gentleman," cried the sheriff, "I shall hurt your
+fair wrists if you don't stand still. There, that will do. Come along.
+No halting."
+
+Arthur gave one glance towards the retreating form of Clinton, as he
+passed through the door, with his haughty head now drooping on his
+breast, wearing the iron badge of crime, and groaned in spirit, that so
+fair a temple should not be occupied by a nobler indwelling guest. So
+rapidly had the scene passed, so still and lone seemed the apartment,
+for Miss Thusa had sunk back on her pillow mute and exhausted, that he
+was tempted to believe that it was nothing but a dream. But the wheel
+lay in fragments at his feet, the gold lay in shining heaps upon the
+table, and a dark mask grinned from the floor. That gold, too!--how
+dream-like its existence! Was Miss Thusa a female Midas or Aladdin? Was
+the dull brass lamp burning on the table, the gift of the genii? Was the
+old gray cabin a witch's magic home?
+
+Rousing himself with a strong effort, he examined the condition of his
+patient, and was grieved to find how greatly this shock had accelerated
+the work of disease. Her pulse was faint and flickering, her skin cold
+and clammy, but after swallowing a cordial, and inhaling the strong odor
+of hartshorn, a reaction took place, and she revived astonishingly; but
+when she spoke, her mind evidently wandered, sometimes into the shadows
+of the past, sometimes into the light of the future.
+
+"What shall I do with this?" asked Arthur, pointing to the gold, anxious
+to bring her thoughts to some central point; "and these, too?" stooping
+down and picking up a fragment of the wheel.
+
+"Screw it up again--screw it up," she replied, quickly, "and put the
+gold back in it. 'Tis Helen's--all little Helen's. Don't let them rob
+her after I'm dead."
+
+Rejoicing to hear her speak so rationally, though wondering if what she
+said of Helen was not the imagining of a disordered brain, he began to
+examine the pieces of the wheel, and found that with the exertion of a
+little skill he could put them together again, and that it was only some
+slender parts of the machine which were broken. He placed the money in
+its hollow receptacles, united the brazen rings, and smoothed the
+tangled flax that twined the distaff. Ever and anon Miss Thusa turned
+her fading glance towards him, and murmured,
+
+"It is good. It is good!"
+
+For more than an hour she lay perfectly still, when suddenly moving, she
+exclaimed,
+
+"Put away the curtain--it's too dark."
+
+Arthur drew aside the curtain from the window nearest the bed, and the
+pale, cold moonlight came in, in white, shining bars, and striped the
+dark counterpane. One fell across Miss Thusa's face, and illuminated it
+with a strange and ghastly lustre.
+
+"Has the moon gone down?" she asked. "I thought it stayed till morning
+in the sky. But my glasses are getting wondrous dim. I must have a new
+pair, doctor. How slow the wheel turns round; the band keeps slipping
+off, and the crank goes creaking, creaking, for want of oil. Little
+Helen, take your feet off the treadle, and don't sit so close, darling.
+I can't breathe."
+
+She panted a few moments, catching her breath with difficulty, then
+tossing her arms above the bed-cover, said, in a fainter voice,
+
+"The great wheel of eternity keeps rolling on, and we are all bound upon
+it. How grandly it moves, and all the time the flax on the distaff is
+smoking. God says in the Bible He will not quench it, but blow it to a
+flame. You've read the Bible, havn't you, doctor? It is a powerful book.
+It tells about Moses and the Lamb. I'll tell you a story, Helen, about a
+Lamb that was slain. I've told you a great many, but never one like
+this. Come nearer, for I can't speak very loud. Take care, the thread is
+sliding off the spool. Cut it, doctor, cut it; it's winding round my
+heart so tight! Oh, my God! it snaps in two!"
+
+These were the last words the aged spinster ever uttered. The
+main-spring of life was broken. When the cold, gray light of morning had
+extinguished the pallid splendor of the moon, and one by one the objects
+in the little room came forth from the dimness of shade, which a single
+lamp had not power to disperse, a great change was visible. The dark
+covering of the bed was removed, the bed itself was gone--but through a
+snowy white sheet that was spread over the frame, the outline of a tall
+form was visible. All was silent as the grave. A woman sat by the
+hearth, with a grave and solemn countenance--so grave and so solemn she
+seemed a fixture in that still apartment. The wheel stood still by the
+bed-frame, the spectacles lay still on the Bible, and a dark, gray dress
+hung in still, dreary folds against the wall.
+
+After a while the woman rose, and walking on tiptoe, holding her breath
+as she walked, pulled the sheet a little further one side. Foolish
+woman! had she stepped with the thunderer's tread, she could not have
+disturbed the cold sleeper, covered with that snowy sheet.
+
+Two or three hours after, the door opened and the young doctor entered
+with a young girl clinging to his arm. She was weeping, and as soon as
+she caught a glimpse of the white sheet she burst into loud sobs.
+
+"We will relieve you of your watch a short time," said Arthur; and the
+woman left the room. He led Helen to the bedside, and turning back the
+sheet, exposed the venerable features composed into everlasting repose.
+Helen did not recoil or tremble as she gazed. She even hushed her sobs,
+as if fearing to ruffle the inexpressible placidity of that dreamless
+rest. Every trace of harshness was removed from the countenance, and a
+serene melancholy reigned in its stead. A smile far more gentle than she
+ever wore in life, lingered on the wan and frozen lips.
+
+"How benign she looks," ejaculated Helen, "how happy! I could gaze
+forever on that peaceful, silent face--and yet I once thought death so
+terrible."
+
+"Life is far more fearful, Helen. Life, with all its feverish unrest,
+its sinful strife, its storms of passion and its waves of sorrow. Oh,
+had you beheld the scene which I last night witnessed in this very
+room--a scene in which life revelled in wildest power, you would tremble
+at the thought of possessing a vitality capable of such unholy
+excitement--you would envy the quietude of that unbreathing bosom."
+
+"And yet," said Helen, "I have often heard you speak of life as an
+inestimable, a glorious gift, as so rich a blessing that the single
+heart had not room to contain the gratitude due."
+
+"And so it is, Helen, if rightly used. I am wrong to give it so dark a
+coloring--ungrateful, because my own experience is bright beyond the
+common lot--unwise, for I should not sadden your views by anticipation.
+Yes, if life is fearful from its responsibilities, it _is_ glorious in
+its hopes and rich in its joys. Its mysteries only increase its
+grandeur, and prove its divine origin."
+
+Thus Arthur continued to talk to Helen, sustaining and elevating her
+thoughts, till she forgot that she came in sorrow and tears.
+
+There was another, who came, when he thought none was near, to pay the
+last tribute of sorrow over the remains of Miss Thusa, and that was
+Louis. He thought of his last interview with her, and her last words
+reverberated in his ear in the silence of that lonely room--"In the name
+of your mother in Heaven, go and sin no more."
+
+Louis sunk upon his knees by that cold and voiceless form, and vowed, in
+the strength of the Lord, to obey her parting injunction. He could never
+now repay the debt he owed, but he could do more--he could be just to
+himself and the memory of her who had opened her lips wisely to reprove,
+and her hand kindly to relieve.
+
+Peace be to thee, ancient sibyl, lonely dweller of the old gray cottage.
+No more shall thy busy fingers twist with curious skill the flaxen
+fibres that wreath thy distaff--no more shall the hum of thy wheel
+mingle in chorus with the buzzing of the fly and the chirping of the
+cricket. But as thou didst say in thy dying hour, "the great wheel of
+eternity keeps rolling on," and thou art borne along with it, no longer
+a solitary, weary pilgrim, without an arm to sustain or kindred heart to
+cheer, but we humbly trust, one of that innumerable, glorious company,
+who, clothed in white robes and bearing branching palms, sing the great
+praise-song that never shall end, "Allelulia--the Lord God omnipotent
+reigneth."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+    "Come, madness! come unto me senseless death,
+    I cannot suffer this! here, rocky wall,
+    Scatter these brains, or dull them."--_Baillie._
+
+    "I know not, I ask not,
+      If guilt's in thy heart--
+    I but know that I love thee,
+      Whatever thou art."--_Moore._
+
+
+In a dark and gloomy apartment, whose grated windows and dreary walls
+were hung here and there with blackening cobwebs--and whose darkness and
+gloom were made visible by the pale rays of a glimmering lamp, sat the
+young, the handsome, the graceful, the fascinating Bryant Clinton. He
+sat, or rather partly reclined on the straw pallet, spread in a corner
+of the room, propped on one elbow, with his head drooping downward, and
+his long hair hanging darkly over his face, as if seeking to veil his
+misery and shame.
+
+It was a poor place for such an occupant. He was a young man of leisure
+now, and had time to reflect on the past, the present, and the future.
+
+The past!--golden opportunities, lost by neglect, swept away by
+temptation, or sold to sin. The present!--detection, humiliation, and
+ignominy. The future!--long and dreary imprisonment--companionship with
+the vilest of the vile, his home a tomb-like cell in the
+penitentiary--his food, bread and water--his bed, a handful of
+straw--his dress, the felon's garb of shame--his magnificent hair shorn
+close as the slaughtered sheep's--his soft white hands condemned to
+perpetual labor!
+
+As this black scroll slowly unrolled before his spirit's eye, this black
+scroll, on which the characters and images gleamed forth so red and
+fiery, it is no wonder that he writhed and groaned and gnashed his
+teeth--it is no wonder that he started up and trod the narrow cell with
+the step of a maniac--that he stopped and ground his heel in the
+dust--that he rushed to the window and shook the iron bars, with
+unavailing rage--that he called on God to help him--not in the fervor of
+faith, but the recklessness of frenzy, the impotence of despair.
+
+Suddenly a deadly sickness came over him, and reeling back to his
+pallet, he buried his face in his hands and wept aloud--and the wail of
+his soul was that of the first doomed transgressor, "My punishment is
+greater than I can bear."
+
+While there he lies, a prey to keen and unavailing agonies, we will take
+a backward glance at the romance of his childhood, and the temptations
+of his youth.
+
+Bryant Clinton was the son of obscure parents. When a little boy, his
+remarkable beauty attracted the admiration of every beholder. He was the
+pet of the village school, the favorite on the village green. His
+intelligence and grace were equal to his beauty, and all of these
+attributes combined in one of his lowly birth, seemed so miraculous, he
+was universally admitted to be a prodigy--a nonpareil. When he was about
+ten years of age, a gentleman of wealth and high social standing, was
+passing through the town, and, like all strangers, was struck by the
+remarkable appearance of the boy. This gentleman was unmarried, though
+in the meridian of life, and of course, uncontrolled master of all his
+movements. He was very peculiar in character, and his impulses, rather
+than his principles, guided his actions. He did not love his relatives,
+because he thought their attentions were venal, and resolved to adopt
+this beautiful boy, not so much from feelings of benevolence towards
+him, as a desire to disappoint his mercenary kindred. Bryant's natural
+affections were not strong enough to prove any impediment to the
+stranger's wish, and his parents were willing to sacrifice theirs, for
+the brilliant advantages offered to their son. Behold our young prodigy
+transplanted to a richer soil, and a more genial atmosphere. His
+benefactor resided in a great city, far from the little village where he
+was born, so that all the associations of his childhood were broken up
+and destroyed. He even took the name of his adopted father, thus losing
+his own identity. Had Mr. Clinton been a man of pure and upright
+principles, had he been faithful to the guardianship he had assumed,
+and educated his _heart_, as well as his mind, Bryant might have been
+the ornament instead of the disgrace, the blessing instead of the bane
+of society. He had no salient propensities to evil, no faults which
+righteous wisdom might not have disciplined. But indulged, caressed,
+praised and admired by all around him, the selfishness inherent in our
+nature, acquired a hot-bed growth from the sultry moral atmosphere which
+he breathed.
+
+The gentle, yet restraining influence which woman, in her purity and
+excellence, ever exerts, was unfortunately denied him. Mr. Clinton was a
+bachelor, and the careful, bustling housekeeper, who kept his servants
+and house in order, was not likely to burden herself with the charge of
+young Bryant's morals. All that Mr. Clinton supervised, was his progress
+at school, which surpassed even his most sanguine expectations. He was
+still the prodigy--the nonpareil--and as he had the most winning,
+insinuating manners--he was still the favorite of teachers and pupils.
+As he grew older, he was taken much into society, and young as he was,
+inhaled, with the most intense delight, the incense of female adulation.
+The smiles and caresses bestowed upon the boy-paragon by beautiful and
+charming women, instead of fostering his affections, as they would have
+done, had they been lavished upon him for his virtues rather than his
+graces, gave precocious growth and vigor to his vanity, till, like the
+cedar of Lebanon, it towered above all other passions. This vanity was
+only visible to others in an earnest desire to please--it only made him
+appear more amiable and gentle, but it was so strong, so vital, that it
+could not, "but by annihilating, die."
+
+Another fatal influence acted upon him. Mr. Clinton, like most rich
+bachelors, was fond of having convivial suppers, where wine and mirth
+abounded. To these young Bryant was often admitted, for his beauty and
+talents were the pride and boast of his adopted father. Here he was
+initiated into the secrets of the gaming-table, not by practice, (for he
+was not allowed to play himself,) but by observation, a medium of
+instruction sufficiently transparent to his acute and subtle mind. Here
+he was accustomed to hear the name of God uttered either in irreverence
+or blasphemy, and the cold sneer of infidelity withered the germs of
+piety a mother's hand had planted in his bosom. Better, far better had
+it been for him, never to have left his parent's humble but honest
+dwelling.
+
+Just as he was about to enter college, Mr. Clinton suddenly died of a
+stroke of apoplexy, leaving the youth whom he had adopted, exposed to
+the persecutions of his worldly and venal relatives. He had resolved to
+make a will, bequeathing his property to Bryant, as his sole heir; but
+having a great horror of death, he could not bear to perform the act
+which would remind him too painfully of his mortality.
+
+"Time enough when I am taken sick," he would say, "to attend to these
+things;" but the blow which announced the coming of death, crushed the
+citadel of thought. There was no time for making wills, and Bryant was
+left far poorer than his adopted father had found him, for he had
+acquired all the tastes which wealth alone can gratify, and all the
+vices, too.
+
+When he returned, reluctant and disappointed, with alienated feelings,
+to his native home, he found that his father was dead, and his mother a
+solitary widow. By selling the little farm which had served them for a
+support, and restricting herself of every luxury, and many comforts, she
+could defray the expenses of a collegiate education, and this she
+resolved to do. Bryant accepted the sacrifice without hesitation,
+deeming it his legitimate right.
+
+On his way to the university, which was still more remote from his
+native village than that was from the home of his adopted father, he
+conceived the design of imposing upon his new companions the story of
+his Virginian birth--though born in reality in one of the Middle States.
+He had heard so much of Virginian aristocracy, of the pride of tracing
+one's descent from one of the _first families_ of Virginia, that he
+thought it a pardonable deception if it increased his dignity and
+consequence. He was ashamed of his parentage, which was concealed under
+the somewhat patrician name of Clinton, and as he chose to change his
+birth-place, it was not very probable that his real origin would be
+discovered. He had previously ascertained that no boys were members of
+the college, who had ever seen him before, or who knew any thing of the
+region where he had dwelt. He soon became a star-scholar, from the
+brilliancy of his talents, and a favorite, too, from the graceful
+pliancy of his manners, and apparent sweetness of his disposition. But
+with all his grace and sweetness, he was unprincipled and dissolute, and
+exerted the commanding influence he had acquired over the minds of his
+companions, to lead them into temptation, and lure them to sin. Yet he
+had the art to appear himself the tempted, as well as they. His agency
+was as invisible as it was powerful, and as fatal, too. When, with
+seeming reluctance, he took his seat at the gaming-table and won, as he
+invariably did, from his unsuspecting comrades, he manifested the
+deepest regret and keenest remorse. No one suspected that it was through
+his instrumentality they were seduced into error and ruin.
+
+Louis, the impulsive, warm-hearted, and confiding Louis Gleason, was
+drawn as if by fascination towards this young man. There was a luminous
+atmosphere around him, that dazzled the judgment, and rendered it blind
+to his moral defects. Dissipation appeared covered with a golden tissue,
+that concealed all its deformity; and reckless prodigality received the
+honors due to princely generosity.
+
+When Clinton accompanied Louis to his father's house, and beheld the
+beautiful Mittie, gilt, as he first saw her by the rays of the setting
+sun, he gave her the spontaneous homage which beauty ever received from
+him. He admired and for a little time imagined he loved her. But she was
+too easy a conquest to elate his vanity, and he soon wearied of her too
+exacting love. Helen, the shy, child-like, simple hearted Helen, baffled
+and interested him. She shunned and feared him, and therefore he pursued
+her with increasing fervor of feeling and earnestness of purpose.
+Finding himself terribly annoyed by Mittie's frantic jealousy, he
+resolved to absent himself awhile till the tempest he had raised was
+lulled, and urging Louis to be his companion, that he might have a plea
+for returning, departed, as has been described, not to his pretended
+home, but to haunts of guilty pleasure, where the deluded Louis
+followed, believing in his infatuation that he was only walking side by
+side with one sorely tempted, reluctantly transgressing, and as oft
+repenting as himself.
+
+With the native chivalry of his character, he refused to criminate his
+_friend_, and justify his father's anger. It was to Clinton _his debts
+of honor_ were chiefly due, and it was for this reason he shrunk from
+revealing them to his father.
+
+When Clinton found himself excluded from the presence of Helen, whose
+love he was resolved to win, his indignation and mortification were
+indescribable; but acknowledging no obstacles to his designs, he watched
+his opportunity and entered Miss Thusa's cabin, as we have related in
+the last chapter. He was no actor in that interview, for he really felt
+for Helen, emotions purer, deeper and stronger than he had ever before
+cherished for woman. He had likewise all the stimulus of rivalry, for he
+believed that Arthur Hazleton loved her, that calm, self-possessed and
+inscrutable being, whose dark, spirit-reaching eye his own had ever
+shunned. Helen's unaffected terror, her repulsion and flight were
+wormwood and gall to his pampered vanity and starving love. Her
+undisguised emotion at the mention of Arthur, convinced him of his
+ascendency over her heart, and the hopelessness of his present pursuit.
+Still he lingered near the spot, unwilling to relinquish an object that
+seemed more and more precious as the difficulty of obtaining it
+increased. He stood by the window, watching, at times, glimpses of
+Helen's sweet, yet troubled countenance, as the curtain flapped in the
+wintry wind. It was then he heard Miss Thusa relate the secret of her
+hidden wealth, and the demon of temptation whispered in his ear that the
+hidden gold might be his. Helen cared not for it--she knew not its
+value, she needed it not. Very likely when the wheel should come into
+her possession, and she examined its mystery, if the legacy were
+missing, she would believe its history the dream of an excited
+imagination, and think of it no more. He had never stolen, and it did
+seem low and ungentlemanlike to steal, but this was more like finding
+some buried treasure, something cast up from the ocean's bed. It was not
+so criminal after all as cheating at the gaming-table, which he was in
+the constant habit of doing. Then why should he hesitate if opportunity
+favored his design? Mr. Gleason had insulted him in the grossest manner,
+Helen had rejected him, Louis had released himself from his thraldom.
+There was no motive for him to remain longer where he was, and he was
+assured suspicion would never rest on him, though he took his immediate
+departure. The next night he attempted to execute his shameful purpose
+by forging the note, sending it by an unsuspecting messenger, thus
+despatching the young doctor, on a professional errand. Every thing
+seemed to favor him. The woman whom Arthur had commanded to keep watch
+during his absence had sunk back into a heavy sleep as soon as his voice
+died on her ear--so there was nothing to impede the robber's entrance.
+Clinton waited till he thought Arthur had had time to reach the place of
+his destination, and then stole into the sick chamber with noiseless
+steps. Miss Thusa was awakened by a metallic, grating sound, and beheld,
+with unspeakable horror, her beloved wheel lying in fragments at the
+feet of the spoiler. The detection, the arrest, the imprisonment are
+already known.
+
+And now the unhappy young man lay on his bed of straw, in an ignominious
+cell, cursing the gold that had tempted, and the weakness and folly that
+had yielded and rushed into the snare. Louis had visited him, but his
+visit had afforded no consolation. What was pity or sympathy without the
+power to release him? Nothing, yea, worse than nothing. He could not
+tell the hour, for time, counted by the throbs of an agonized heart,
+seems to have the attribute of eternity--endless duration. He knew it
+was night by the lamp which had been brought in with the bread and
+water, which stood untasted by him. He had not noticed the darkening
+shadow stealing over the grated windows, his soul was so dark within. He
+knew, too, that it must be somewhat late, for the lamp grew dimmer and
+dimmer, capped by a long, black wick, with a hard, fiery crest.
+
+He heard the key twisting in the rusted lock, the door swinging heavily
+open, and supposed the jailor was examining the cells before retiring to
+rest. He was confirmed in this belief by seeing his figure through the
+opening, but when another figure glided in, and the jailor retreated,
+locking the door behind him, he knew that his prison had received an
+unexpected guest. He could not imagine what young boy had thought of
+visiting his cell, for he knew not one of the age this youth appeared to
+be. He was wrapped in a dark cloak, so long that it swept the prison
+floor, and a dark fur cap pulled far over the forehead, shaded his face.
+
+Clinton raised himself on his elbow and called out, in a gloomy tone,
+"Who is there?"
+
+The youth advanced with slow steps, gathering up the sweeping folds of
+his cloak as he walked, and sunk down upon the wooden bench placed
+against the damp brick wall. Lifting his hands and clasping them
+together, he bowed his face upon them, while his frame shook with
+imprisoned emotion. The hands clasped over his face gleamed like snow in
+the dim cell, and they were small and delicate in shape, as a woman's.
+The dejected and drooping attitude, the downcast face, the shrouded and
+trembling form, the feminine shame visible through the disguise,
+awakened a wild hope in his heart. Springing up from his pallet, he
+eagerly approached the seeming boy, and exclaimed--
+
+"Helen, Helen--have you relented at last? Do you pity and forgive me? Do
+you indeed love me?"
+
+"Ungrateful wretch!" cried a voice far different from Helen's. The
+drooping head was quickly raised, the cap dashed from the head, and the
+cloak hurled from the shoulders. "Ungrateful wretch, as false as vile,
+do you know me now?"
+
+"Mittie! is it indeed you?" said Clinton, involuntarily recoiling a few
+steps from the fiery glance that flashed through her tears. "I am not
+worthy of this condescension."
+
+"Condescension!" repeated she, disdainfully. "Condescension! Yes--you
+say well. You did not expect me!" continued she, in a tone of withering
+sarcasm. "I am sorry for your disappointment. I am sorry the gentle
+Helen did not see fit to leave her downy bed, and warm room, braving the
+inclemency of the wintry blast, to minister to her waiting lover. It is
+a wondrous pity."
+
+Then changing her accent, and bursting into a strain of the most
+impassioned emotion--
+
+"Oh, my soul! was it for this I came forth alone, in darkness and
+stealth, like the felon whose den I sought? Is it on such a being as
+this, I have wasted such boundless wealth of love? Father, mother,
+brother, sister--all vainly urged their claims upon my heart. It was
+marble--it was ice to them. They thought I was made of stone, granite;
+would to Heaven I were. But you, Clinton; but you breathed upon the
+rock, you softened, you warmed; and now, wretch, you grind it into
+powder. You melted the ice--and having drained the waters, you have left
+a dry and burning channel--here."
+
+Mittie pressed her hand upon her heart, with a gesture of pain, and
+began to traverse wildly the narrow cell; her cloak, which had fallen
+back from her shoulders, sweeping in the dust. Every passion was
+wrestling for mastery in her bosom.
+
+"Why," she exclaimed, suddenly stopping and gazing fixedly upon him,
+"why did you make me conscious of this terrible vitality? What motive
+had you for crossing my path, and like Attila, the destroyer, withering
+every green blade beneath my feet? I had never wronged you. What motive,
+I ask, had you for deceiving and mocking me, who so madly trusted, so
+blindly worshipped?"
+
+"Spare me, Mittie," exclaimed the humbled and convicted Clinton.
+"Trample not on a fallen wretch, who has nothing to say in his defence.
+But one thing I will say, I have not intended to deceive you. I did love
+you, and felt at the time all that I professed. Had you loved me less, I
+had been more constant. But why, let me ask, have you sought me here, to
+upbraid me for my inconstancy? What good can it do to you or to me? You
+call me a wretch: and I acknowledge myself to be one, a vile, ungrateful
+wretch. Call me a thief, if you will, if the word does not blister your
+tongue to utter it. I confess it all. Now leave me to my fate."
+
+"Confess one thing more," said Mittie, "speak to me as if it were your
+dying hour--for you will soon be dead to me, and tell me, if it is for
+the love of Helen you abandon mine?"
+
+Clinton hesitated, a red color flushed his pallid cheek. He could not at
+that moment, in the presence of such deep and true passion, utter a
+falsehood; and degraded as he was, he could not bear to inflict the pain
+an avowal of the truth might cause.
+
+"Speak," she urged, "and speak truly. It is all the atonement I ask."
+
+"My love can only reflect disgrace on its object. Rejoice that it rests
+on her, rather than yourself. But she has avenged your wrongs. She
+rejected me before my hand was polluted with this last foul crime. She
+upbraided me for my perfidy to you, and fled from my sight with horror.
+Had she loved me, I might have been saved--but I am lost now."
+
+Mittie stood immovable as a statue. Her eyes were fixed upon the floor,
+her brow contracted and her lips firmly closed. She appeared to be going
+through a petrifying process, so marble was her complexion, so rigid her
+features, so unchanging her attitude.
+
+    "'Twas but a moment o'er her soul
+    Winters of memory seemed to roll,"
+
+congealing her as they rolled. As Clinton looked upon her and contrasted
+that pale and altered form, with the resplendent figure that he had
+beheld like an embodied rainbow on the sun-gilded arch, his conscience
+stung him with a scorpion sting. He had said to himself, while parlying
+with the tempter about the gold, that he had never _stolen_. He now felt
+convicted of a far worse robbery, of a more inexpiable crime--for which
+God, if not man, would judge him--the theft of a young and trusting
+heart, of its peace, its confidence and hope, leaving behind a cold and
+dreary void. He could not bear the sight of that desolate figure, so
+lately quickened with glowing passions.
+
+"Clinton," said Mittie, breaking the silence in a low, oppressed voice,
+"I see you have one virtue left, of the wreck of all others. I honor
+that one. You asked me why I came. I will tell you. I knew you guilty,
+steeped in ignominy, the scorn and by-word of the town, guilty too of a
+crime more vile than murder, for murder may be committed from the wild
+impulse of exasperated passion--but theft is a cold, deliberate,
+selfish, coward act. Yet knowing all this, I felt willing to brave every
+danger, to face death itself, if it were necessary, to release you from
+the horrid doom that awaits you--to save you from the living grave which
+yawns to receive you. I am willing still, in spite of your alienated
+affection, your perjured vows and broken faith--so mighty and
+all-conquering is even the memory of the love of woman. Here, wrap this
+cloak about you, pull this cap over your brows--your long, dark hair
+will aid the disguise. The jailer will not detect it, or mark your
+taller figure, by this dim and gloomy light. He is sleepy and weary, and
+I know his senses are deadened by brandy; I perceived its burning fumes
+as we walked that close and narrow passage. Clinton, there is no danger
+to myself in this release, you know there is not. The moment they
+discover me, they will let me go. Hasten, for he will soon be here."
+
+"Impossible," exclaimed Clinton, "I cannot consent; I cannot leave you
+in this cell--this cold, fireless cell, on such a night as this. I
+cannot expose you to your father's displeasure, to the censures of the
+world. No, Mittie, I am not worthy of this generous devotion; but from
+my soul I bless you for it. Besides, it would be all in vain. A
+discovery would be inevitable."
+
+"Escape would be certain," she cried, with increasing energy. "I marked
+that jailer well--his senses are too much blunted for the exercise of
+clear perception. You are slender and not very tall; your face is as
+fair as mine, your hair of the same color. If you refuse, I will seek a
+colder couch than that pallet of straw; I will pass the night under the
+leafless trees, and my pillow shall be the snowy ground. As for my
+father's displeasure, I have incurred it already. As for the censures of
+the world, I scorn them. What do you call the world? This village, this
+town, this little, narrow sphere? I live in a world of my own, as high
+above it as the heavens are above the earth."
+
+Clinton's opposition weakened before her commanding energy. The hope of
+freedom kindled in his breast, and lighted up his countenance.
+
+"But you," said he, irresolutely, "even if you could endure the horrors
+of the night, cannot be concealed on his entrance. How can you pass for
+me?" he cried, looking down on her woman's apparel, for she had thrown
+the cloak over his arm, and stood in her own flowing robes.
+
+"I will throw myself on the pallet, and draw the blankets over me. My
+sable locks," gathering them back in her hand, for they hung loosely
+round her face--"are almost the counterpart of yours. I can conceal
+their length thus." Untying the scarf which passed over her shoulders
+and encircled her waist, she folded it over her flowing hair. "When the
+blanket is over me," she added, "I shall escape detection. Hasten! Think
+of the long years of imprisonment, the solitary dungeon, the clanking
+chains, the iron that will daily enter your soul. Think of all this, and
+fly! Hark! I hear footsteps in the passage. Don't you hear them? My God!
+it will be too late!"
+
+Seizing the cloak, she threw it over his shoulders, snatched up the cap,
+and put it upon his head, which involuntarily bent to receive it, and
+wildly tearing herself from the arms that wrapped her in a parting
+embrace, sprang to the pallet, and shrouded herself in the dismal folds
+from which Clinton had shrunk in disgust.
+
+Clinton drew near the door. It opened, and Arthur Hazleton entered the
+cell. The jailer stood on the outside, fumbling at the lock, turning the
+massy key backward and forward, making a harsh, creaking sound. His head
+was bent close to the lock, in which there appeared to be some
+impediment. The noise which he made with the grating key, the stooping
+position he had assumed, favored the escape of Clinton.
+
+As Arthur entered, he glided out, unperceived by him, for the jailer had
+brought no light, and the prisoner was standing in the shadow of the
+wall.
+
+"There," grumbled the jailer, "I believe that will do--I must have this
+lock fixed to-morrow. Here, doctor, take the key, I can trust _you_, I
+know. When you are ready to go, drop it in my room, just underneath
+this. I mean drop in, and give it to me, I am sick to-night. I am
+obliged to go to bed."
+
+Arthur assured him that he would attend faithfully to his directions,
+and that he might retire in perfect security. Then locking the door
+within, he walked towards the pallet, where the supposed form of the
+prisoner lay, in the stillness of dissembled sleep. His face was turned
+towards the straw, the bed cover was drawn up over his neck, nothing was
+distinctly visible in the obscurity but a mass of dark, gleaming hair,
+reflecting back the dim light from its jetty mirror.
+
+Arthur did not like to banish from his couch, that
+
+    "Friend to the wretch, whom every friend forsakes."
+
+He seated himself on the bench, folded his cloak around him, and awaited
+in silence the awakening of the prisoner. He had come, in obedience to
+the commands of his Divine Master, to visit those who are in prison, and
+minister unto them. Not as Mittie had done, to assist him in eluding the
+just penalty of the offended majesty of the laws. He did not believe the
+perpetrator of such a crime as Clinton's entitled to pardon, but he
+looked upon every son of Adam as a brother, and as such an object of
+pity and kindness.
+
+While he sat gazing on the pallet, watching for the first motion that
+would indicate the dispersion of slumber, he heard a cough issuing from
+it, which his practiced ear at once recognized as proceeding from a
+woman's lungs. A suspicion of the truth flashed into his mind. He rose,
+bent over the couch, and taking hold of the covering, endeavored to draw
+it back from the face it shrouded. He could see the white hands that
+clinched it, and a tress of long, waving hair, loosened by the motion,
+floated on his sight.
+
+"Mittie--Mittie Gleason!" he exclaimed, bending on one knee, and trying
+to raise her--"how came you here? Yet, why do I ask? I know but too
+well--Clinton has escaped--and you--"
+
+"_I am here!_" she cried, starting to her feet, and shaking back her
+hair, which fell in a sable mantle over her shoulders, flowing far below
+the waist. "I am here. What do you wish of me? I am not prepared to
+receive company just yet," she added, deridingly; "my room is rather
+unfurnished."
+
+She looked so wild and unnatural, her tone was so mocking, her glance so
+defying, Arthur began to fear that her reason was disordered. Fever was
+burning on her cheeks, and it might be the fire of delirium that
+sparkled in her eyes. He took her hand very gently, and tried to count
+the beatings of her pulse, but she snatched it from him with violence,
+and commanded him to leave her.
+
+"This is my sanctuary," she cried. "You have no right to intrude into
+it. Begone!--I will be alone."
+
+"Mittie, I will not leave you here--you must return with me to your
+father's house. Think of the obloquy you may incur by remaining. Come,
+before another enters."
+
+"If I go, _you_ will be suspected of releasing the prisoner, and suffer
+the penalty due for such an act. No, no, I have braved all consequences,
+and I dare to meet them."
+
+"Then I leave you to inform the jailer of the flight of the prisoner. It
+is my duty."
+
+"You will not do so mean and unmanly a deed!" springing between him and
+the door, and pressing her back against it. "You will not basely inform
+of him whom a young girl has had the courage to release. _You_--a man,
+will not do it. _Will you?_"
+
+"An act of justice is never base or cowardly. Clinton is a convicted
+thief, and deserves the doom impending over such transgressors. He is an
+unprincipled and profligate young man, and unworthy the love of a
+pure-hearted woman. He has tempted your brother from the paths of
+virtue, repaid your confidence with the coldest treachery, violated the
+laws of God and man, and yet, unparalleled infatuation--you love him
+still, and expose yourself to slander and disgrace for his sake."
+
+He spoke sternly, commandingly. He had tried reason and persuasion, he
+now spoke with authority, but it was equally in vain.
+
+"Who told you that I love him?" she repeated. "'Tis false. I hate him. I
+hate him!" she again repeated, but her lips quivered, and her voice
+choked.
+
+Arthur hailed this symptom of sensibility as a favorable omen. He had
+never intended to inform the jailer of Clinton's escape. He would not be
+instrumental to such an event himself, knowing, as he did, his guilt,
+but since it had been effected by another, he could not help rejoicing
+in heart. Perhaps Clinton might profit by this bitter lesson, and
+"reformation glittering over his faults"--efface by its lustre the dark
+stain upon his name. And while he condemned the rashness and mourned for
+the misguided feelings of Mittie, he could not repress an involuntary
+thrill of admiration for her deep, self-sacrificing love. What a pity
+that a passion so sublime in its strength and despair should be
+inspired by a being so unworthy.
+
+"Will you not let me pass?" said he.
+
+"Never, for such a purpose."
+
+"I disclaim it altogether, I never intended to put in execution the
+threat I breathed. It was to induce you to leave this horrible place
+that I uttered it. I am ashamed of the subterfuge, though the motive was
+pure. Mittie, I entreat you to come with me; I entreat you with the
+sincerity of a friend, the earnestness of a brother. I will never
+breathe to a human being the mystery of Clinton's escape. I will guard
+your reputation with the most jealous vigilance. Not even my blind Alice
+shall be considered a more sacred trust than you, if you confide
+yourself to my protecting care."
+
+"Are you indeed my friend?" she asked, in a softened voice, with a
+remarkable change in the expression of her countenance. "I thought you
+hated me."
+
+"Hated you! What a suspicion!"
+
+"You have always been cold and distant--never sought my friendship, or
+manifested for me the least regard. When I was but a child, and you
+first visited our family, I was attracted towards you, less by your
+gentle manners than your strong, controlling will. Had you shown as much
+interest in me as you did in Helen, you might have had a wondrous
+influence on my character. You might have saved me from that which is
+destroying me. But it is all past. You slighted me, and lavished all
+your care on Helen. Every one cared for Helen more than me, and my heart
+grew colder and colder to her and all who loved her. What I have since
+felt, and why I have felt it for others, God only knows. Others! Why
+should I say others? There never was but one--and that one, the false
+felon, whom I once believed an angel of light. And he, even he has
+thrown my heart back bleeding at my feet, for the love he bears to
+Helen."
+
+"Which Helen values not," said the young doctor, half in assertion and
+half in interrogation.
+
+"No, no," she replied, "a counter influence has saved her from the
+misery and shame."
+
+Mittie paused, clasped her hands together, and pressed them tightly on
+her bosom.
+
+"Oh!" she exclaimed, "it is no metaphor, when they talk of arrows
+piercing the breast. I feel them here."
+
+Her countenance expressed physical suffering as well as mental agony.
+She shivered with cold one moment, the next glowed with feverish heat.
+
+Arthur took off his cloak, and folded it round her, and she offered no
+resistance. She was sinking into that passive state, which often
+succeeds too high-wrought emotion.
+
+"You are very kind," said she, "but _you_ will suffer."
+
+"No--I am accustomed to brave the elements. But if you think I suffer,
+let us hasten to a warmer region. Give me your hand."
+
+Firmly grasping it, he extinguished the lamp, and in total darkness they
+left the cell, groped through the long, narrow passage, down the winding
+stairs, at the foot of which was the jailer's room. Arthur was familiar
+with this gloomy dwelling, so often had he visited it on errands of
+mercy and compassion. It was not the first time he had been entrusted
+with the key of the cells, though he suspected that it would be the
+last. The keeper, only half awakened, received the key, locked his own
+door, and went back to his bed, muttering that "there were not many men
+to be trusted, but the young doctor was one."
+
+When Arthur and Mittie emerged from the dark prison-house into the
+clear, still moonlight, (for the moon had risen, and over the night had
+thrown a veil of silvery gauze,) Arthur's excited spirit subsided into
+peace, beneath its pale, celestial glory. Mittie thought of the
+fugitive, and shrunk from the beams that might betray his flight. The
+sudden barking of the watch-dog made her tremble. Even their own shadows
+on the white, frozen ground, she mistook for the avengers of crime, in
+the act of pursuit.
+
+"What shall we do?" said Arthur, when, having arrived at Mr. Gleason's
+door, they found it fastened. "I wish you could enter unobserved."
+
+Mittie's solitary habits made her departure easy, and her absence
+unsuspected, but she could not steal in through the bolts and locks that
+impeded her admission.
+
+"No matter," she cried, "leave me here--I will lie down by the
+threshold, and wait the morning. All places are alike to me."
+
+Louis, whose chamber was opposite to Mittie's, in the front part of the
+house, and who now had many a sleepless night, heard voices in the
+portico, and opening the window, demanded "who was there?"
+
+"Come down softly and open the door," said Arthur, "I wish to speak to
+you."
+
+Louis hastily descended, and unlocked the door.
+
+His astonishment, on seeing his sister with Arthur Hazleton, at that
+hour, when he supposed her in her own room, was so great that he held
+the door in his hand, without speaking or offering to admit them.
+
+"Let us in as noiselessly as possible," said Arthur. "Take her directly
+to her chamber, kindle a fire, give her a generous glass of Port wine,
+and question her not to-night. Let no servant be roused. Wait upon her
+yourself, and be silent on the morrow. Good-night."
+
+"It is too bright," whispered she, as Louis half carried her up stairs,
+stepping over the checker-work the moon made on the carpet.
+
+"What is too bright, Mittie?"
+
+"Nothing. Make haste--I am very cold."
+
+Louis led Mittie to a chair, then lighting a candle, he knelt down and
+gathered together the still smoking brands. A bright fire soon blazed on
+the hearth, and illuminated the apartment.
+
+"Now for the wine," said he.
+
+"He is gone, Louis," said she, laying her hand on his arm. "He is fled.
+I released him. Was it not noble in me, when he loves Helen, and he a
+thief, too?"
+
+Louis thought she spoke very strangely, and he looked earnestly at her
+glittering eyes.
+
+"I am glad of it!" he exclaimed--"he is a villain, but I am glad he is
+escaped. But you, Mittie--you should not have done this. How could you
+do it? Did Arthur Hazleton help you?"
+
+"Oh, no! I did it very easily--I gave him your cloak and cap. You must
+not be angry, you shall have new ones. They fitted him very nicely. He
+would run faster, if my heart-strings did not get tangled round his
+feet, all bleeding, too. Don't you remember, Miss Thusa told you about
+it, long ago?"
+
+"My God, Mittie! what makes you talk in that way? Don't talk so. Don't
+look so. For Heaven's sake, don't look so wild."
+
+"I can't help it, Louis," said she, pressing her hands on the top of her
+head, "I feel so strange here. I do believe I'm mad."
+
+She was indeed delirious. The fever which for many days had been burning
+in her veins, now lighted its flames in her brain, and raged for more
+than a week with increasing violence.
+
+She did not know, while she lay tossing in delirious agony, that the
+fugitive, Clinton, had been overtaken, and brought back in chains to a
+more hopeless, because doubly guarded captivity.
+
+Justice triumphed over love.
+
+He who sows the wind, must expect to reap the whirlwind.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+    "High minds of native pride and force,
+    Most deeply feel thy pangs, remorse."--_Scott._
+
+    "Lord, at Thy feet ashamed I lie,
+      Upward I dare not look--
+    Pardon my sins before I die,
+      And blot them from Thy book."--_Hymn._
+
+
+When Mittie awoke from the wild dream of delirium, she was weak as a
+new-born infant. For a few moments she imagined herself the inhabitant
+of another world. The deep quietude of the apartment, its soft, subdued,
+slumberous light, the still, watching figures seated by her bedside,
+formed so strong a contrast to the gloomy cell, with its chill, damp
+air, and glimmering lamp--its rough keeper and agitated inmate--that
+cell which, it appeared to her, she had just quitted. Two fair young
+forms, with arms interlaced, and heads inclined towards each other, the
+one with locks of rippling gold, the other of soft, wavy brown, seemed
+watching angels to her unclosing eyes. She felt a soft pressure on her
+faintly throbbing pulse, and knew that on the other side, opposite the
+watching angels, a manly figure was bending over her. She could not turn
+her head to gaze upon it, but there was a benignity in its presence
+which soothed and comforted her. Other forms were there also, but they
+faded away in a soft, hazy atmosphere, and her drooping eye-lids again
+closed.
+
+In the long, tranquil slumber that followed, she passed the crisis of
+her disease, and the strife-worn, wandering spirit returned to the
+throne it had abdicated.
+
+And now Mittie became conscious of the unbounded tenderness and care
+lavished upon her by every member of the household, and of the
+unwearied attentions of Arthur Hazleton. Helen herself could not have
+been more kindly, anxiously nursed. She, who had believed herself an
+object of indifference or dislike to all, was the central point of
+solicitude now. If she slept, every one moved as if shod with velvet,
+the curtains were gently let down, all occupation suspended, lest it
+should disturb the pale slumberer;--if she waked, some kind hand was
+ever ready to smooth her pillow, wipe the dew of weakness from her brow,
+and administer the cordial to her wan lips.
+
+"Why do you all nurse me so tenderly?" asked she of her step-mother, one
+night, when she was watching by her. "Me, who have never done any thing
+for others?"
+
+"You are sick and helpless, and dependent on our care. The hand of God
+is laid upon you, and whosoever He smites, becomes a sacred object in
+the Christian's eyes."
+
+"Then it is not from love you minister to my weakness. I thought it
+could not be."
+
+"Yes, Mittie. It is from love. We always love those who depend on us for
+life. Your sufferings have been great, and great is our sympathy. Pity,
+sympathy, tenderness, all flow towards you, and no remembrance of the
+past mingles bitterness with their balm."
+
+"But, mother, I do not wish to live. It were far kinder to let me die."
+
+It was the first time Mittie had ever addressed her thus. The name
+seemed to glide unconsciously from her lips, breathed by her softened
+spirit.
+
+Mrs. Gleason was moved even to tears. She felt repaid for all her
+forbearance, all her trials, by the utterance of this one little word,
+so long and so ungratefully withheld. Bending forward, with an
+involuntary movement, she kissed the faded lips, which, when rosy with
+health, had always repelled her maternal caresses. She felt the feeble
+arm of the invalid pass round her neck, and draw her still closer. She
+felt, too, tears which did not _all_ flow from her own eyes moisten her
+cheek.
+
+"I do not wish to live, mother," repeated Mittie, after this ebullition
+of sensibility had subsided. "I can never again be happy. I never can
+make others happy. I am willing to die. Every time I close my eyes I
+pray that my sleep may be death, my bed my grave."
+
+"Ah! my child, pray not for death because you have been saved from the
+curse of a granted prayer. Pray rather that you may live to atone by a
+life of meekness and humility for past errors. You ought not to be
+willing to die with so great a purpose unaccomplished, since God does
+not now _will_ you to depart. You mistake physical debility for
+resignation, weariness of life for desire for heaven. Oh, Mittie, not in
+the sackcloth and ashes of _selfish_ sorrow should the spirit be clothed
+to meet its God."
+
+Mittie lay for some time without speaking, then lifting her melancholy
+black eyes, once so haughty and brilliant, she said--
+
+"I will tell you why I wish to die. I am now humbled and
+subdued--conscious and ashamed of my errors, grateful for your
+unexampled goodness. If I die now, you will shed some tears over my
+grave, and perhaps say, 'Poor girl! she was so young, and so unhappy--we
+remember her faults only to forgive them.' But if I live to be strong
+and healthy as I have been before, I fear my heart will harden, and my
+evil temper recover all its terrible power. It seems to me now as if I
+had been possessed by one of those fiends which we read of in the Bible,
+which tore and rent the bosom that they entered. It is not cast out--it
+only sleeps--and I fear--oh!--I dread its wakening."
+
+"Oh, Mittie, only cry, 'Thou Son of David, have mercy on me--' only cry
+out, from the depths of a contrite spirit--and it will depart, though
+its name be legion."
+
+"But I fear this contrition may be transitory. I do pray, I do cry out
+for mercy now, but to-morrow my heart may harden into stone. You, who
+are so perfect and pious, think it easy to be good, and so it is, on a
+sick bed--when gentle, watching eyes and stilly steps are round you, and
+the air you breathe is embalmed with blessings. With returning health
+the bosom strife will begin. Your thoughts will no longer centre on me.
+Helen will once more absorb your affections, and then the serpent envy
+will come gliding back, so cold and venomous, to coil itself in my
+heart."
+
+"My child--there is room enough in the world, room enough in our
+hearts, and room enough in Heaven, for you and Helen too."
+
+She spoke with solemnity, and she continued to speak soothingly and
+persuasively till the eyes of the invalid were closed in slumber, and
+then her thoughts rose in silent prayer for that sin-sick and life-weary
+soul.
+
+Mittie never alluded to Clinton in her conversation with her mother.
+There was only one being to whom she now felt willing to breathe his
+name, and that was Arthur Hazleton. The first time she was alone with
+him, she asked the question that had long been hovering on her lips. She
+was sitting in an easy chair, supported by pillows, her head resting on
+her wasted hand. The reflection of the crimson curtains gave a glow to
+the chill whiteness of her face, and softened the gloom of her sable
+eyes. She looked earnestly at Arthur, who knew all that she wished to
+ask. The color mounted to his cheek. He could not frame a falsehood, and
+he feared to reveal the truth.
+
+"Are there any tidings of him?" said she; "is he safe--or has his flight
+been discovered? But," continued she in a lower voice, "you need not
+speak. Your looks reveal the whole. He is again imprisoned."
+
+Arthur bowed his head, glad to be spared the painful task of asserting
+the fact.
+
+"And there is no hope of pardon or acquittal?" she asked.
+
+"None. He _must_ meet his doom. And, Mittie, sad as it is--it is just.
+Your own sense of rectitude and justice will in time sanction the
+decree. You may, you must pity him--but love, unsupported by esteem,
+must expire. You are mourning now over a bright illusion--a fallen
+idol--a deserted temple; but believe me, your mourning will change to
+joy. The illusion is dispelled, that truth may shine forth in all its
+splendor; the idol thrown down that the living God may be enthroned upon
+the altar; the temple deserted that it may be filled with the glory of
+the Lord."
+
+"You are right, Arthur, in one thing--would to God you were in all. It
+is not love I now feel, but despair. It is dreadful to look forward to a
+cold, unloving existence. I shudder to think how young I am, and how
+long I may have yet to live."
+
+"Yours is the natural language of disappointed youth. You have passed
+through a fiery ordeal. The sore and quivering heart shrinks from the
+contact even of sympathy. You fear the application of even Gilead's
+balm. You are weak and languid, and I will not weary you with
+discussion; but spring will soon be here; genial, rejoicing spring. You
+will revive with its flowers, and your spirit warble with its singing
+birds. Then we will walk abroad in the hush of twilight--and if you will
+promise to listen, I will preach you a daily sermon, with nature for my
+text and inspiration too."
+
+"Ah! such sermons should be breathed to Helen only. She can understand
+and profit by them."
+
+"There is room enough in God's temple for you and Helen too," replied
+Arthur. Mittie remembered the words of her step-mother, so similar, and
+was struck by the coincidence. Her own views seemed very selfish and
+narrow, by contrast.
+
+The flowers of spring unfolded, and Mittie did indeed revive and bloom
+again, but it was as the lily, not the rose. The love tint of the latter
+had faded, never to blush again.
+
+There was a subdued happiness in the household, which had long been a
+stranger there.
+
+Louis, though his brow still wore the traces of remorse, was happy in
+the consciousness of errors forgiven, confidence restored, and good
+resolutions strengthened and confirmed. He devoted himself to his
+father's business with an industry and zeal more worthy of praise,
+because he was obliged to struggle with his natural inclinations. He
+believed it his father's wish to keep him with him, and he made it his
+law to obey him, thinking his future life too short for expiation. There
+was another object, for which he also thought life too short, and that
+was to secure the happiness of Alice--whom he loved with a purity and
+intensity that was deepened by her helplessness and almost infantine
+artlessness. He knew that her blindness was hopeless, but it seemed to
+him that he loved her the more for her blindness, her entire dependence
+on his care. It would be such a holy task to protect and cherish her,
+and to throw around her darkened life the illuminating influence of
+love.
+
+She was still with them, and Mrs. Hazleton had been induced to leave the
+seclusion of the Parsonage, and become the guest of Mrs. Gleason. It
+must have been a strong motive that tempted her from the hallowed
+shades, which she had never quitted since her husband's death. Reader,
+can you conjecture what that motive was?
+
+A very handsome new house, built in the cottage style, had been lately
+erected in the vicinity of Mr. Gleason's, under the superintendence of
+the young doctor, and rumor said that he was shortly to be married to
+Helen Gleason. Every one thought it was time for _him_ to be married, if
+he ever intended to be, but many objected to her extreme youth. That,
+however, was the only objection urged, as Helen was a universal
+favorite, and Arthur Hazleton the idol of the town.
+
+Arthur had never made Helen a formal declaration of love. He had never
+asked her in so many many words, "Will you be my wife?" As imperceptibly
+and gracefully as the morning twilight brightens into the fervor and
+glory of noonday, had the watchfulness and tenderness of friendship
+deepened into the warmth and devotion of perfect love. Helen could not
+look back to any particular scene, where the character of the friend was
+merged into that of the lover. She felt the blessed assurance that she
+was beloved, yet had any one asked her how and when she first received
+it, she would have found it difficult to answer. He talked to her of the
+happiness of the future, of _their_ future, of the heaven of mutual
+trust and faith and love, begun on earth, in the kingdom of their
+hearts, till it seemed as if her individual existence ceased, and life
+with him became a heavenly identity. There were other life interests,
+too, twining together, as the following scene will show.
+
+The evening before the wedding-day of Arthur and Helen, as Mrs. Hazleton
+was walking in the garden, gathering flowers and evergreens for bridal
+garlands to decorate the room, Louis approached her, hand in hand with
+her blind child.
+
+"Mrs. Hazleton," said he with trembling eagerness, "will you give me
+your daughter, and let us hallow the morrow by a double wedding?"
+
+"What, Alice, my poor blind Alice!" exclaimed Mrs. Hazleton, dropping in
+astonishment the flowers she had gathered. "You cannot mean what you
+say--and her misfortune should make her sacred from levity."
+
+"I do mean it. I have long and ardently wished it. The consciousness of
+my unworthiness has till now sealed my lips, but I cannot keep silence
+longer. My affection has grown too strong for the restraints imposed
+upon it. Give me your daughter, dearer to me for her blindness, more
+precious for her helplessness, and I will guard her as the richest
+treasure ever bestowed on man."
+
+Mrs. Hazleton was greatly agitated. She had always looked on Alice as
+excluded by her misfortune from the usual destiny of her sex, as
+consecrated from her birth for a vestal's lot. She had never thought of
+her being wooed as a wife, and she repelled the idea as something
+sacrilegious.
+
+"Impossible, Louis," she answered. "You know not what you ask. My Alice
+is set apart, by her Maker's will, from the sympathies of love. I have
+disciplined her for a life of loneliness. She looks forward to no other.
+Disturb not, I pray thee, the holy simplicity of her feelings, by
+inspiring hopes which never can be realized."
+
+"Speak, Alice," cried Louis, "and tell your mother all you just now said
+to me. Let me be justified in her eyes."
+
+Alice lifted her downcast, blushing face, while the tears rolled gently
+from her beautiful, sightless eyes.
+
+"Mother, dear mother, forgive me if I have done wrong, but I cannot help
+my heart's throbbing more quickly at the echo of his footsteps or the
+music of his voice. And when he asked me to be his wife and be ever with
+him, I could not help feeling that it would make me the happiest of
+human beings. Oh, mother, you cannot know how kind, how good, how tender
+he has been to me. The world never looks dark when he is near."
+
+Alice bowed her head on the shoulder of Louis, while her fair ringlets
+swept in shining wreaths over her face.
+
+"This is so unexpected!" cried Mrs. Hazleton. "I must speak with your
+parents."
+
+"I come with their full consent and approbation. Alice will take the
+place of Helen in the household, and prevent the aching void that would
+be left."
+
+"Alas! what can Alice do?"
+
+"I can love him and pray for him, mother, live to bless him, and die,
+too, for his sake, if God requires such a sacrifice."
+
+"Is not hers a heavenly mission?" cried Louis, taking the hand which
+rested on his arm, and laying it gently against his heart. "This little
+hand, whose touch quickens the pulsations of my being, will be a shield
+from temptation, a safeguard from sin. What can I do for her half so
+precious as her blessings and her prayers? If I am a lamp to her path,
+she will be a light to my soul. 'What can Alice do?' She can do every
+thing that a guardian angel can do. Give her to me, for I need her
+watchful cares."
+
+"I see she is yours already," cried the now weeping mother, "I cannot
+take away what God has given. May He bless you, and sanctify this
+peculiar and solemn union."
+
+Thus there was a double wedding on the morrow.
+
+"But she had no wedding dress prepared!" says one
+
+A robe of pure white muslin was all the lovely blind bride wished, and
+that she had always ready. A wreath of white rose-buds encircling her
+hair, completed her bridal attire. Helen wore no richer decoration.
+Spotless white, adorned with sweet, opening flowers, what could be more
+appropriate for youth and innocence like theirs?
+
+Mittie wore the same fair, youthful livery, and a stranger might have
+mistaken her for one of the brides of the evening--but no love-light
+beamed in her large, dark, melancholy eyes. She would gladly have
+absented herself from a scene in which her blighted heart had no
+sympathy, but she believed it her _duty_ to be present, and when she
+congratulated the wedded pairs, she tried to smile, though her smile was
+as cold as a moonbeam on snow.
+
+Helen's eyes filled with tears at the sight of that faint, cold smile.
+She thought of Clinton, as he had first appeared among them, splendid in
+youthful beauty, and then of Clinton, languishing in chains, and doomed
+to long imprisonment in a lonely dungeon. She thought of her sister's
+wasted affections, betrayed confidence, and blasted hopes, and
+contrasting _her_ lot with her own blissful destiny, she turned aside
+her head and wept.
+
+"Weep not, Helen," said Arthur, in a low voice, divining the cause of
+her emotion, and fixing on the retiring form of Mittie his own
+glistening eye; "she now sows in tears, but she may yet reap in joy.
+Hers is a mighty struggle, for her character is composed of strong and
+warring elements. Her mind has grasped the sublime truths of religion,
+and when once her heart embraces them, it will kindle with the fire of
+martyrdom. I have studied her deeply, intensely, and believe me, my own
+dear Helen, my too sad and tearful bride, though she is now wading
+through cold and troubled waters, her feet will rest on the green margin
+of the promised land."
+
+And this prophecy was indeed fulfilled. Mittie never became gentle,
+amiable and loving, like Helen, for as Arthur had justly said, her
+character was composed of strong and warring elements--but after a long
+and agonizing strife, she did become a zealous and devoted Christian.
+The hard, metallic materials of her nature were at last fused by the
+flame of divine love. She had passed through a baptism of fire, and
+though it had blistered and scarred, it had purified her heart.
+Christianity, in her, never wore a serene and joyous aspect. Its diadem
+was the crown of thorns, its drink often the vinegar and gall. It was on
+the Mount of Calvary, not of Transfiguration, that she beheld her
+Saviour, and her God.
+
+Had she been a Catholic, she would have worn the vesture of sackcloth,
+and slept upon the bed of iron, and even used the knotted scourge in
+expiation of her sins, but as the severe simplicity of her Protestant
+faith forbade such penances, she manifested, by the most rigid
+self-denial and strictest devotion, the sincerity of her penitence and
+the fervor of her faith.
+
+Was Miss Thusa forgotten? Did she sleep in her lonely grave unhonored
+and unmourned?
+
+In a corner of Helen's own room, conspicuous in the mids of the elegant,
+modern furniture that adorns it, there stands an ancient brass-bound
+wheel. The brass shines with the lustre of burnished gold, and the dark
+wood-work has the polish of old mahogany. Nothing in Helen's possession
+is so carefully preserved, so reverently guarded as that ancestral
+machine.
+
+Nor is this the only memento of the aged spinster. In the grave-yard is
+a simple monument of gray marble, which gratitude and affection have
+erected to her memory. Instead of the willow, with weeping branches, the
+usual badge of grief--a wheel carved in bas relief perpetuates the
+remembrance of her life-long occupation. Below this is written the
+inscription--
+
+"She laid her hands to the spindle, and her hands held the distaff."
+
+"She opened her mouth with wisdom, and in her tongue was the law of
+kindness."
+
+
+THE END.
+
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+This edition is printed on very thick and fine white paper, and is
+profusely illustrated, with all the original illustrations by
+Cruikshank, Alfred Crowquill, Phiz, etc., from the original London
+edition, on copper, steel, and wood. Each volume contains a novel
+complete, and may be had in complete setts, beautifully bound in cloth,
+for Eighteen Dollars for the sett in twelve volumes, or any volume will
+be sold separately, as follows:
+
+  BLEAK HOUSE,         _Price_, $1 50
+  PICKWICK PAPERS,               1 50
+  OLD CURIOSITY SHOP,            1 50
+  OLIVER TWIST,                  1 50
+  SKETCHES BY "BOZ,"             1 50
+  BARNABY RUDGE,                 1 50
+  NICHOLAS NICKLEBY,             1 50
+  MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT,             1 50
+  DAVID COPPERFIELD,             1 50
+  DOMBEY AND SON,                1 50
+  CHRISTMAS STORIES,             1 50
+  DICKENS' NEW STORIES,          1 50
+
+  Price of a complete sett of the Illustrated Edition, in twelve
+    vols., in black cloth, gilt back,                            $18,00
+  Price of a complete sett of the Illustrated Edition, in twelve
+    vols., in full law library sheep,                            $24,00
+  Price of a complete sett of the Illustrated edition, in twelve
+    vols., in half turkey Morocco,                               $27,00
+  Price of a complete sett of the Illustrated Edition, in twelve
+    vols., in half calf, antique,                                $36,00
+
+_All subsequent works by Charles Dickens will be issued in uniform style
+with all the previous ten different editions._
+
+
+CAPTAIN MARRYATT'S WORKS.
+
+Either of which can be had separately. Price of all except the four last
+is 25 cents each. They are printed on the finest white paper, and each
+forms one large octavo volume, complete in itself.
+
+  PETER SIMPLE.
+  JACOB FAITHFUL.
+  THE PHANTOM SHIP.
+  MIDSHIPMAN EASY.
+  KING'S OWN.
+  NEWTON FORSTER.
+  JAPHET IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
+  PACHA OF MANY TALES.
+  NAVAL OFFICER.
+  PIRATE AND THREE CUTTERS.
+  SNARLEYYOW; or, the Dog-Fiend.
+  PERCIVAL KEENE. Price 50 cts.
+  POOR JACK. Price 50 cents.
+  SEA KING. 200 pages. Price 50 cents.
+  VALERIE. His last Novel. Price 50 cents.
+
+
+ELLEN PICKERING'S NOVELS.
+
+Either of which can be had separately. Price 25 cents each. They are
+printed on the finest white paper, and each forms one large octavo
+volume, complete in itself, neatly bound in a strong paper cover.
+
+  THE ORPHAN NIECE.
+  KATE WALSINGHAM.
+  THE POOR COUSIN.
+  ELLEN WAREHAM.
+  THE QUIET HUSBAND.
+  WHO SHALL BE HEIR
+  THE SECRET FOE.
+  AGNES SERLE.
+  THE HEIRESS.
+  PRINCE AND PEDLER.
+  MERCHANT'S DAUGHTER.
+  THE FRIGHT.
+  NAN DARRELL.
+  THE SQUIRE.
+  THE EXPECTANT.
+  THE GRUMBLER. 50 cts.
+
+
+MRS. CAROLINE LEE HENTZ'S WORKS.
+
+COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE; OR, THE JOYS AND SORROWS OF AMERICAN LIFE. With
+    a Portrait of the Author. Complete in two large volumes, paper
+    cover, price One Dollar, or bound in one volume, cloth gilt, for One
+    Dollar and Twenty-five cents.
+
+THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. With illustrations. Complete in two large
+    volumes, paper cover, 600 pages, price One Dollar, or bound in one
+    volume, cloth gilt, One Dollar and Twenty-five cents.
+
+LINDA; OR, THE YOUNG PILOT OF THE BELLE CREOLE. Complete in two volumes,
+    paper cover, price One Dollar, or bound in one volume, cloth gilt,
+    for One Dollar and Twenty-five cents.
+
+ROBERT GRAHAM. The Sequel to, and continuation of Linda. Being the last
+    book but one that Mrs. Hentz wrote prior to her death. Complete in
+    two large volumes, paper cover, price One Dollar, or bound in one
+    volume, cloth gilt, for One Dollar and Twenty-five cents.
+
+RENA; OR, THE SNOW BIRD. A Tale of Real Life. Complete in two volumes,
+    paper cover, price One Dollar, or bound in one volume, cloth gilt,
+    for One Dollar and Twenty-five cents.
+
+MARCUS WARLAND; OR, THE LONG MOSS SPRING. A Tale of the South. Complete
+    in two volumes, paper cover, price One Dollar, or bound in one
+    volume, cloth gilt, One Dollar and Twenty-five cents.
+
+LOVE AFTER MARRIAGE; and other Stories. Complete in two volumes, paper
+    cover, price One Dollar, or bound in one volume, cloth gilt, for One
+    Dollar and Twenty-five cents.
+
+EOLINE; OR, MAGNOLIA VALE. Complete in two volumes, paper cover, price
+    One Dollar, or bound in one volume, cloth gilt, $1 25.
+
+THE BANISHED SON; and other Stories. Complete in two volumes, paper
+    cover, price One Dollar, or bound in one volume, cloth gilt, $1 25.
+
+HELEN AND ARTHUR. Complete in two volumes, paper cover, price One
+    Dollar, or bound in one volume, cloth gilt, $1 25.
+
+The whole of the above are also published in a very fine style, bound in
+    the very best and most elegant and substantial manner, in full
+    Crimson, with beautifully gilt edges, full gilt sides, gilt backs,
+    etc., etc., making them the best and most acceptable books for
+    presentation at the price, published in the country. Price of either
+    one in this style, Two Dollars.
+
+
+T. S. ARTHUR'S WORKS.
+
+Either of which can be had separately. Price 25 cents each. They are the
+most moral, popular and entertaining in the world. There are no better
+books to place in the bands of the young. All will profit by them.
+
+  YEAR AFTER MARRIAGE.
+  THE DIVORCED WIFE.
+  THE BANKER'S WIFE.
+  PRIDE AND PRUDENCE.
+  CECILIA HOWARD.
+  MARY MORETON.
+  LOVE IN A COTTAGE.
+  LOVE IN HIGH LIFE.
+  THE TWO MERCHANTS.
+  LADY AT HOME.
+  TRIAL AND TRIUMPH.
+  THE ORPHAN CHILDREN.
+  THE DEBTOR'S DAUGHTER.
+  INSUBORDINATION.
+  LUCY SANDFORD.
+  AGNES, or the Possessed.
+  THE TWO BRIDES.
+  THE IRON RULE.
+  THE OLD ASTROLOGER.
+  THE SEAMSTRESS.
+
+
+CHARLES LEVER'S NOVELS.
+
+CHARLES O'MALLEY, the Irish Dragoon. By Charles Lever. Complete in one
+    large octavo volume of 324 pages. Price Fifty cents; or an edition
+    on finer paper, bound in cloth, illustrated. Price One Dollar.
+
+THE KNIGHT OF GWYNNE. A tale of the time of the Union. By Charles Lever.
+    Complete in one fine octavo volume. Price Fifty cents; or an edition
+    on finer paper, bound in cloth, illustrated. Price One Dollar.
+
+JACK HINTON, the Guardsman. By Charles Lever. Complete in one large
+    octavo volume of 400 pages. Price Fifty cents; or an edition on
+    finer paper, bound in cloth, illustrated. Price One Dollar.
+
+TOM BURKE OF OURS. By Charles Lever. Complete in one large octavo volume
+    of 300 pages. Price Fifty cents; or an edition on finer paper, bound
+    in cloth, illustrated. Price One Dollar.
+
+ARTHUR O'LEARY. By Charles Lever. Complete in one large octavo volume.
+    Price Fifty cents; or an edition on finer paper, bound in cloth,
+    illustrated. Price One Dollar.
+
+KATE O'DONOGHUE. A Tale of Ireland. By Charles Lever. Complete in one
+    large octavo volume. Price Fifty cents; or an edition on finer
+    paper, bound in cloth, illustrated. Price One Dollar.
+
+HORACE TEMPLETON. By Charles Lever. This is Lever's New Book. Complete
+    in one large octavo volume. Price Fifty cents; or an edition on
+    finer paper, bound in cloth, illustrated. Price One Dollar.
+
+HARRY LORREQUER. By Charles Lever, author of the above seven works.
+    Complete in one octavo volume of 402 pages. Price Fifty cents; or an
+    edition on finer paper, bound in cloth, illustrated. Price One
+    Dollar.
+
+VALENTINE VOX.--LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF VALENTINE VOX, the Ventriloquist.
+    By Henry Cockton. One of the most humorous books ever published.
+    Price Fifty cents; or an edition in finer paper, bound in cloth.
+    Price One Dollar.
+
+PERCY EFFINGHAM. By Henry Cockton, author of "Valentine Vox, the
+    Ventriloquist." One large octavo volume. Price 50 cents.
+
+TEN THOUSAND A YEAR. By Samuel C. Warren. With Portraits of Snap, Quirk,
+    Gammon, and Tittlebat Titmouse, Esq. Two large octavo vols., of 547
+    pages. Price One Dollar; or an edition on finer paper, bound in
+    cloth, $1,50.
+
+
+CHARLES J. PETERSON'S WORKS.
+
+KATE AYLESFORD. A story of the Refugees. One of the most popular books
+    ever printed. Complete in two large volumes, paper cover. Price One
+    Dollar; or bound in one volume, cloth, gilt. Price $1 25.
+
+CRUISING IN THE LAST WAR. A Naval Story of the War of 1812. First and
+    Second Series. Being the complete work, unabridged. By Charles J.
+    Peterson. 228 octavo pages. Price 50 cents.
+
+GRACE DUDLEY; OR, ARNOLD AT SARATOGA. By Charles J. Peterson.
+    Illustrated. Price 25 cents.
+
+THE VALLEY FARM; OR, the AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN ORPHAN. A companion to Jane
+    Eyre. Price 25 cents.
+
+
+EUGENE SUE'S NOVELS.
+
+THE MYSTERIES OF PARIS; AND GEROLSTEIN, the Sequel to it. By Eugene Sue,
+    author of the "Wandering Jew," and the greatest work ever written.
+    With illustrations. Complete in two large volumes, octavo. Price One
+    Dollar.
+
+THE ILLUSTRATED WANDERING JEW. By Eugene Sue. With 87 large
+    illustrations. Two large octavo volumes. Price One Dollar.
+
+THE FEMALE BLUEBEARD; or, the Woman with many Husbands. By Eugene Sue.
+    Price Twenty-five cents.
+
+FIRST LOVE. A Story of the Heart. By Eugene Sue. Price Twenty-five
+    cents.
+
+WOMAN'S LOVE. A Novel. By Eugene Sue. Illustrated. Price Twenty-five
+    cents.
+
+MAN-OF-WAR'S-MAN. A Tale of the Sea. By Eugene Sue. Price Twenty-five
+    cents.
+
+RAOUL DE SURVILLE; or, the Times of Napoleon Bonaparte in 1810. Price
+    Twenty-five cents.
+
+
+SIR E. L. BULWER'S NOVELS.
+
+FALKLAND. A Novel. By Sir E. L. Bulwer, author of "The Roue,"
+    "Oxonians," etc. One volume, octavo. Price 25 cents.
+
+THE ROUE; OR THE HAZARDS OF WOMEN. Price 25 cents.
+
+THE OXONIANS. A Sequel to the Roue. Price 25 cents.
+
+CALDERON, THE COURTIER. By Bulwer. Price 121/2 cents.
+
+
+MRS. GREY'S NOVELS.
+
+Either of which can be had separately. Price 25 cents each. They are
+printed on the finest white paper, and each forms one large octavo
+volume, complete in itself, neatly bound in a strong paper cover.
+
+  DUKE AND THE COUSIN.
+  GIPSY'S DAUGHTER.
+  BELLE OF THE FAMILY.
+  SYBIL LENNARD.
+  THE LITTLE WIFE.
+  MANOEUVRING MOTHER.
+  LENA CAMERON; or, the Four Sisters.
+  THE BARONET'S DAUGHTERS.
+  THE YOUNG PRIMA DONNA.
+  THE OLD DOWER HOUSE.
+  HYACINTHE.
+  ALICE SEYMOUR.
+  HARRY MONK.
+  MARY SEAHAM. 250 pages. Price 50 cents.
+  PASSION AND PRINCIPLE. 200 pages. Price 50 cents.
+
+
+GEORGE W. M. REYNOLD'S WORKS.
+
+THE NECROMANCER. A Romance of the times of Henry the Eighth. By G. W. M.
+    Reynolds. One large volume. Price 75 cents.
+
+THE PARRICIDE; OR, THE YOUTH'S CAREER IN CRIME. By G. W. M. Reynolds.
+    Full of beautiful illustrations. Price 50 cents.
+
+LIFE IN PARIS: OR, THE ADVENTURES OF ALFRED DE ROSANN IN THE METROPOLIS
+    OF FRANCE. By G. W. M. Reynolds. Full of Engravings. Price 50
+    cents.
+
+
+AINSWORTH'S WORKS.
+
+JACK SHEPPARD.--PICTORIAL LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF JACK SHEPPARD, the most
+    noted burglar, robber, and jail breaker, that ever lived.
+    Embellished with Thirty-nine, full page, spirited Illustrations,
+    designed and engraved in the finest style of art, by George
+    Cruikshank, Esq., of London. Price Fifty cents.
+
+ILLUSTRATED TOWER OF LONDON. With 100 splendid engravings. This is
+    beyond all doubt one of the most interesting works ever published in
+    the known world, and can be read and re-read with pleasure and
+    satisfaction by everybody. We advise all persons to get it and read
+    it. Two volumes, octavo. Price One Dollar.
+
+PICTORIAL LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF GUY FAWKES, The Chief of the Gunpowder
+    Treason. The Bloody Tower, etc. Illustrated By William Harrison
+    Ainsworth. 200 pages. Price Fifty cents.
+
+THE STAR CHAMBER. An Historical Romance. By W. Harrison Ainsworth. With
+    17 large full page illustrations. Price 50 cents.
+
+THE PICTORIAL OLD ST. PAUL'S. By William Harrison Ainsworth. Full of
+    Illustrations. Price Fifty cents.
+
+MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF QUEEN ANNE. By William Harrison Ainsworth.
+    Price Fifty cents.
+
+MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF THE STUARTS. By Ainsworth. Being one of the
+    most interesting Historical Romances ever written. One large volume.
+    Price Fifty cents.
+
+DICK TURPIN.--ILLUSTRATED LIFE OF DICK TURPIN, the Highwayman, Burglar,
+    Murderer, etc. Price Twenty-five cents.
+
+HENRY THOMAS.--LIFE OF HARRY THOMAS, the Western Burglar and Murderer.
+    Full of Engravings. Price Twenty-five cents.
+
+DESPERADOES.--ILLUSTRATED LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF THE DESPERADOES OF THE
+    NEW WORLD. Full of engravings. Price Twenty-five cents.
+
+NINON DE L'ENCLOS.--LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF NINON DE L'ENCLOS, with her
+    Letters on Love, Courtship and Marriage. Illustrated. Price
+    Twenty-five cents.
+
+THE PICTORIAL NEWGATE CALENDAR; or the Chronicles of Crime. Beautifully
+    illustrated with Fifteen Engravings. Price Fifty cents.
+
+PICTORIAL LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF DAVY CROCKETT. Written by himself.
+    Beautifully illustrated. Price Fifty cents.
+
+LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF ARTHUR SPRING, the murderer of Mrs. Ellen Lynch
+    and Mrs. Honora Shaw, with a complete history of his life and
+    misdeeds, from the time of his birth until he was hung. Illustrated
+    with portraits. Price Twenty-five cents.
+
+JACK ADAMS.--PICTORIAL LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF JACK ADAMS; the celebrated
+    Sailor and Mutineer. By Captain Chamier, author of "The Spitfire."
+    Full of illustrations. Price Fifty cents.
+
+GRACE O'MALLEY.--PICTORIAL LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF GRACE O'MALLEY. By
+    William H. Maxwell, author of "Wild Sports in the West." Price Fifty
+    cents.
+
+THE PIRATE'S SON. A Sea Novel of great interest. Full of beautiful
+    illustrations. Price Twenty-five cents.
+
+
+ALEXANDRE DUMAS' WORKS.
+
+THE IRON MASK, OR THE FEATS AND ADVENTURES OF RAOULE DE BRAGELONNE.
+    Being the conclusion of "The Three Guardsmen," "Twenty Years After,"
+    and "Bragelonne." By Alexandre Dumas. Complete in two large volumes,
+    of 420 octavo pages, with beautifully Illustrated Covers, Portraits,
+    and Engravings. Price One Dollar.
+
+LOUISE LA VALLIERE; OR THE SECOND SERIES AND FINAL END OF THE IRON MASK.
+    By Alexandre Dumas. This work is the final end of "The Three
+    Guardsmen," "Twenty Years After," "Bragelonne," and "The Iron Mask,"
+    and is of far more interesting and absorbing interest, than any of
+    its predecessors. Complete in two large octavo volumes of over 400
+    pages, printed on the best of paper, beautifully illustrated. It
+    also contains correct Portraits of "Louise La Valliere," and "The
+    Hero of the Iron Mask." Price One Dollar.
+
+THE MEMOIRS OF A PHYSICIAN; OR THE SECRET HISTORY OF LOUIS THE
+    FIFTEENTH. By Alexandre Dumas. It is beautifully embellished with
+    thirty engravings, which illustrate the principal scenes and
+    characters of the different heroines throughout the work. Complete
+    in two large octavo volumes. Price One Dollar.
+
+THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE: OR THE SECRET HISTORY OF THE COURT OF LOUIS THE
+    SIXTEENTH. A Sequel to the Memoirs of a Physician. By Alexandre
+    Dumas. It is beautifully illustrated with portraits of the heroines
+    of the work. Complete in two large octavo volumes of over 400 pages.
+    Price One Dollar.
+
+SIX YEARS LATER; OR THE TAKING OF THE BASTILE. By Alexandre Dumas. Being
+    the continuation of "The Queen's Necklace; or the Secret History of
+    the Court of Louis the Sixteenth," and "Memoirs of a Physician."
+    Complete in one large octavo volume. Price Seventy-five cents.
+
+COUNTESS DE CHARNY; OR THE FALL OF THE FRENCH MONARCHY. By Alexandre
+    Dumas. This work is the final conclusion of the "Memoirs of a
+    Physician," "The Queen's Necklace," and "Six Years Later, or Taking
+    of the Bastile." All persons who have not read Dumas in this, his
+    greatest and most instructive production, should begin at once, and
+    no pleasure will be found so agreeable, and nothing in novel form so
+    useful and absorbing. Complete in two volumes, beautifully
+    illustrated. Price One Dollar.
+
+DIANA OF MERIDOR; THE LADY OF MONSOREAU; or France in the Sixteenth
+    Century. By Alexandre Dumas. An Historical Romance. Complete in two
+    large octavo volumes of 538 pages, with numerous illustrative
+    engravings. Price One Dollar.
+
+ISABEL OF BAVARIA; or the Chronicles of France for the reign of Charles
+    the Sixth. Complete in one fine octavo volume of 211 pages, printed
+    on the finest white paper. Price Fifty cents.
+
+EDMOND DANTES. Being the sequel to Dumas' celebrated novel of the Count
+    of Monte Cristo. With elegant illustrations. Complete in one large
+    octavo volume of over 200 pages. Price Fifty cents.
+
+THE CORSICAN BROTHERS. This work has already been dramatized, and is now
+    played in all the theatres of Europe and in this country, and it is
+    exciting an extraordinary interest. Price Twenty-five cents.
+
+SKETCHES IN FRANCE. By Alexandre Dumas. It is as good a book as
+    Thackeray's Sketches in Ireland. Dumas never wrote a better book. It
+    is the most delightful book of the season. Price Fifty cents.
+
+GENEVIEVE, OR THE CHEVALIER OF THE MAISON ROUGE. By Alexandre Dumas. An
+    Historical Romance of the French Revolution. Complete in one large
+    octavo volume of over 200 pages, with numerous illustrative
+    engravings. Price Fifty cents.
+
+
+GEORGE LIPPARD'S WORKS.
+
+WASHINGTON AND HIS GENERALS; or, Legends of the American Revolution.
+    Complete in two large octavo volumes of 538 pages, printed on the
+    finest white paper. Price One Dollar.
+
+THE QUAKER CITY; or, the Monks of Monk Hall. A Romance of Philadelphia
+    Life, Mystery and Crime. Illustrated with numerous Engravings.
+    Complete in two large octavo volumes of 500 pages. Price One Dollar.
+
+THE LADYE OF ALBARONE; or, the Poison Goblet. A Romance of the Dark
+    Ages. Lippard's Last Work, and never before published. Complete in
+    one large octavo volume. Price Seventy-five cents.
+
+PAUL ARDENHEIM; the Monk of Wissahickon. A Romance of the Revolution.
+    Illustrated with numerous engravings. Complete in two large octavo
+    volumes, of nearly 600 pages. Price One Dollar.
+
+BLANCHE OF BRANDYWINE; or, September the Eleventh, 1777. A Romance of
+    the Poetry, Legends, and History of the Battle of Brandywine. It
+    makes a large octavo volume of 350 pages, printed on the finest
+    white paper. Price Seventy-five cents.
+
+LEGENDS OF MEXICO; or, Battles of General Zachary Taylor, late President
+    of the United States. Complete in one octavo volume of 128 pages.
+    Price Twenty-five cents.
+
+THE NAZARENE; or, the Last of the Washingtons. A Revelation of
+    Philadelphia, New York, and Washington, in the year 1844. Complete
+    in one volume. Price Fifty cents.
+
+
+B. D'ISRAELI'S NOVELS.
+
+VIVIAN GREY. By B. D'Israeli, M. P. Complete in one large octavo volume
+    of 225 pages. Price Fifty cents.
+
+THE YOUNG DUKE; or the younger days of George the Fourth. By B.
+    D'Israeli, M. P. One octavo volume. Price Thirty-eight cents.
+
+VENETIA; or, Lord Byron and his Daughter. By B. D'Israeli, M. P.
+    Complete in one large octavo volume. Price Fifty cents.
+
+HENRIETTA TEMPLE. A Love Story. By B. D'Israeli, M. P. Complete in one
+    large octavo volume. Price Fifty cents.
+
+CONTARINA FLEMING. An Autobiography. By B. D'Israeli, M. P. One volume,
+    octavo. Price Thirty-eight cents.
+
+MIRIAM ALROY. A Romance of the Twelfth Century. By B. D'Israeli, M. P.
+    One volume octavo. Price Thirty-eight cents.
+
+
+EMERSON BENNETT'S WORKS.
+
+CLARA MORELAND. This is a powerfully written romance. The characters are
+    boldly drawn, the plot striking, the incidents replete with
+    thrilling interest, and the language and descriptions natural and
+    graphic, as are all of Mr. Bennett's Works. 336 pages. Price 50
+    cents in paper cover, or One Dollar in cloth, gilt.
+
+VIOLA; OR, ADVENTURES IN THE FAR SOUTH-WEST. Complete in one largo
+    volume. Price 50 cents in paper cover, or 75 cents in cloth, gilt.
+
+THE FORGED WILL. Complete in one large volume, of over 300 pages, paper
+    cover, price 50 cents; or bound in cloth, gilt, price $1 00.
+
+KATE CLARENDON; OR, NECROMANCY IN THE WILDERNESS. Price 50 cents in
+    paper cover, or 75 cents in cloth, gilt.
+
+BRIDE OF THE WILDERNESS. Complete in one large volume. Price 50 cents in
+    paper cover, or 75 cents in cloth, gilt.
+
+THE PIONEER'S DAUGHTER; and THE UNKNOWN COUNTESS. By Emerson Bennett.
+    Price 50 cents.
+
+HEIRESS OF BELLEFONTE; and WALDE-WARREN. A Tale of Circumstantial
+    Evidence. By Emerson Bennett. Price 50 cents.
+
+ELLEN NORBURY; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF AN ORPHAN. Complete in one large
+    volume, price 50 cents in paper cover, or in cloth gilt, $1 00.
+
+
+MISS LESLIE'S NEW COOK BOOK.
+
+MISS LESLIE'S NEW RECEIPTS FOR COOKING. Comprising new and approved
+    methods of preparing all kinds of soups, fish, oysters, terrapins,
+    turtle, vegetables, meats, poultry, game, sauces, pickles, sweet
+    meats, cakes, pies, puddings, confectionery, rice, Indian meal
+    preparations of all kinds, domestic liquors, perfumery, remedies,
+    laundry-work, needle-work, letters, additional receipts, etc. Also,
+    list of articles suited to go together for breakfasts, dinners, and
+    suppers, and much useful information and many miscellaneous subjects
+    connected with general house-wifery. It is an elegantly printed
+    duodecimo volume of 520 pages; and in it there will be found _One
+    Thousand and Eleven new Receipts_--all useful--some ornamental--and
+    all invaluable to every lady, miss, or family in the world. This
+    work has had a very extensive sale, and many thousand copies have
+    been sold, and the demand is increasing yearly, being the most
+    complete work of the kind published in the world, and also the
+    latest and best, as, in addition to Cookery, its receipts for making
+    cakes and confectionery are unequalled by any other work extant. New
+    edition, enlarged and improved, and handsomely bound. Price One
+    Dollar a copy only. This is the only new Cook Book by Miss Leslie.
+
+
+GEORGE SANDS' WORKS.
+
+FIRST AND TRUE LOVE. A True Love Story. By George Sand, author of
+    "Consuelo," "Indiana," etc. It is one of the most charming and
+    interesting works ever published. Illustrated. Price 50 cents.
+
+INDIANA. By George Sand, author of "First and True Love," etc. A very
+    bewitching and interesting work. Price 50 cents.
+
+THE CORSAIR. A Venetian Tale. Price 25 cents.
+
+
+HUMOROUS AMERICAN WORKS.
+
+WITH ORIGINAL ILLUSTRATION BY DARLEY AND OTHERS, AND BEAUTIFULLY
+ILLUMINATED COVERS.
+
+We have just published new and beautiful editions of the following
+HUMOROUS AMERICAN WORKS. They are published in the best possible style,
+full of original Illustrations, by Darley, descriptive of all the best
+scenes in each work, with Illuminated Covers, with new and beautiful
+designs on each, and are printed on the finest and best of white paper.
+There are no works to compare with them in point of wit and humor, in
+the whole world. The price of each work is Fifty cents only.
+
+THE FOLLOWING ARE THE NAMES OF THE WORKS.
+
+MAJOR JONES' COURTSHIP: detailed, with other Scenes, Incidents, and
+    Adventures, in a Series of Letters, by himself. With Thirteen
+    Illustrations from designs by Darley. Price Fifty cents.
+
+DRAMA IN POKERVILLE: the Bench and Bar of Jurytown, and other Stories.
+    By "Everpoint," (J. M. Field, of the St. Louis Reveille.) With
+    Illustrations from designs by Darley. Fifty cents.
+
+CHARCOAL SKETCHES; or, Scenes in the Metropolis. By Joseph C. Neal,
+    author of "Peter Ploddy," "Misfortunes of Peter Faber," etc. With
+    Illustrations. Price Fifty cents.
+
+YANKEE AMONGST THE MERMAIDS, and other Waggeries and Vagaries. By W. E.
+    Burton, Comedian. With Illustrations by Darley. Price Fifty cents.
+
+MISFORTUNES OF PETER FABER, and other Sketches. By the author of
+    "Charcoal Sketches." With Illustrations by Darley and others. Price
+    Fifty cents.
+
+MAJOR JONES' SKETCHES OF TRAVEL, comprising the Scenes, Incidents, and
+    Adventures in his Tour from Georgia to Canada. With Eight
+    Illustrations from Designs by Darley. Price Fifty cents.
+
+STREAKS OF SQUATTER LIFE, and Far West Scenes. A Series of humorous
+    Sketches, descriptive of Incidents and Character in the Wild West.
+    By the author of "Major Jones' Courtship," "Swallowing Oysters
+    Alive," etc. With Illustrations from designs by Darley. Price Fifty
+    cents.
+
+QUARTER RACE IN KENTUCKY, AND OTHER STORIES. By W. T. Porter, Esq., of
+    the New York Spirit of the Times. With Eight Illustrations and
+    designs by Darley. Complete in one volume. Price Fifty cents.
+
+SIMON SUGGS.--ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS, late of the Tallapoosa
+    Volunteers, together with "Taking the Census," and other Alabama
+    Sketches. By a Country Editor. With a Portrait from Life, and Nine
+    other Illustrations by Darley. Price Fifty cents.
+
+RIVAL BELLES. By J. B. Jones, author of "Wild Western Scenes," etc. This
+    is a very humorous and entertaining work, and one that will be
+    recommended by all after reading it. Price Fifty cents.
+
+YANKEE YARNS AND YANKEE LETTERS. By Sam Slick, alias Judge Haliburton.
+    Full of the drollest humor that has ever emanated from the pen of
+    any author. Every page will set you in a roar. Price Fifty cents.
+
+LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF COL. VANDERBOMB, AND THE EXPLOITS OF HIS PRIVATE
+    SECRETARY. By J. B. Jones, author of "The Rival Belles," "Wild
+    Western Scenes," etc. Price Fifty cents.
+
+BIG BEAR OF ARKANSAS, and other Sketches, illustrative of Characters and
+    Incidents in the South and South-West. Edited by Wm. T. Porter. With
+    Illustrations by Darley. Price Fifty cents.
+
+MAJOR JONES' CHRONICLES OF PINEVILLE; embracing Sketches of Georgia
+    Scenes, Incidents, and Characters. By the author of "Major Jones'
+    Courtship," etc. With Illustrations by Darley. Price Fifty cents.
+
+LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF PERCIVAL MABERRY. By J. H. Ingraham. It will
+    interest and please everybody. All who enjoy a good laugh should get
+    it at once. Price Fifty cents.
+
+FRANK FORESTER'S QUORNDON HOUNDS; or, A Virginian at Melton Mowbray. By
+    H. W. Herbert, Esq. With Illustrations. Price Fifty cents.
+
+PICKINGS FROM THE PORTFOLIO OF THE REPORTER OF THE "NEW ORLEANS
+    PICAYUNE." Comprising Sketches of the Eastern Yankee, the Western
+    Hoosier, and such others as make up society in the great Metropolis
+    of the South. With Illustrations by Darley. Price Fifty cents.
+
+FRANK FORESTER'S SHOOTING BOX. By the author of "The Quorndon Hounds,"
+    "The Deer Stalkers," etc. With Illustrations by Darley. Price Fifty
+    cents.
+
+STRAY SUBJECTS ARRESTED AND BOUND OVER; being the Fugitive Offspring of
+    the "Old Un" and the "Young Un," that have been "Laying Around
+    Loose," and are now "tied up" for fast keeping. With Illustrations
+    by Darley. Price Fifty cents.
+
+FRANK FORESTER'S DEER STALKERS; a Tale of Circumstantial evidence. By
+    the author of "My Shooting Box," "The Quorndon Hounds," etc. With
+    Illustrations. Price Fifty cents.
+
+ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN FARRAGO. By Hon. H. H. Brackenridge. For Sixteen
+    years one of the Judges of the Supreme Court of the State of
+    Pennsylvania. With Illustrations from designs by Darley Price Fifty
+    cents.
+
+THE CHARMS OF PARIS; or, Sketches of Travel and Adventures by Night and
+    Day, of a Gentleman of Fortune and Leisure. From his private
+    journal. Price Fifty cents.
+
+PETER PLODDY, and other oddities. By the author of "Charcoal Sketches,"
+    "Peter Faber," &c. With Illustrations from original designs, by
+    Darley. Price Fifty cents.
+
+WIDOW RUGBY'S HUSBAND, a Night at the Ugly Man's, and other Tales of
+    Alabama. By author of "Simon Suggs." With original Illustrations.
+    Price Fifty cents.
+
+MAJOR O'REGAN'S ADVENTURES. By Hon. H. H. Brackenridge. With
+    Illustrations by Darley. Price Fifty cents.
+
+SOL. SMITH; THEATRICAL APPRENTICESHIP AND ANECDOTAL RECOLLECTIONS OF
+    SOL. SMITH, Esq., Comedian, Lawyer, etc. Illustrated by Darley.
+    Containing Early Scenes, Wanderings in the West, Cincinnati in Early
+    Life, etc. Price Fifty cents.
+
+SOL. SMITH'S NEW BOOK; THE THEATRICAL JOURNEY-WORK AND ANECDOTAL
+    RECOLLECTIONS OF SOL. SMITH, Esq., with a portrait of Sol. Smith. It
+    comprises a Sketch of the second Seven years of his professional
+    life, together with some Sketches of Adventure in after years. Price
+    Fifty cents.
+
+POLLY PEABLOSSOM'S WEDDING, and other Tales. By the author of "Major
+    Jones' Courtship," "Streaks of Squatter Life," etc. Price Fifty
+    cents.
+
+FRANK FORESTER'S WARWICK WOODLANDS; or, Things as they were Twenty Years
+    Ago. By the author of "The Quorndon Hounds," "My Shooting Box," "The
+    Deer Stalkers," etc. With Illustrations, illuminated. Price Fifty
+    cents.
+
+LOUISIANA SWAMP DOCTOR. By Madison Tensas, M. D., Ex. V. P. M. S. U. Ky.
+    Author of "Cupping on the Sternum." With Illustrations by Darley.
+    Price Fifty cents.
+
+NEW ORLEANS SKETCH BOOK, by "Stahl," author of the "Portfolio of a
+    Southern Medical Student." With Illustrations from designs by
+    Darley. Price Fifty cents.
+
+
+FRENCH, GERMAN, SPANISH, LATIN, AND ITALIAN LANGUAGES.
+
+Any person unacquainted with either of the above languages, can, with
+the aid of these works, be enabled to _read_, _write_ and _speak_ the
+language of either, without the aid of a teacher or any oral instruction
+whatever, provided they pay strict attention to the instructions laid
+down in each book, and that nothing shall be passed over, without a
+thorough investigation of the subject it involves: by doing which they
+will be able to _speak_, _read_ or _write_ either language, at their
+will and pleasure. Either of these works is invaluable to any persons
+wishing to learn these languages, and are worth to any one One Hundred
+times their cost. These works have already run through several large
+editions in this country, for no person ever buys one without
+recommending it to his friends.
+
+  FRENCH WITHOUT A MASTER. In Six Easy Lessons.
+    GERMAN WITHOUT A MASTER. In Six Easy Lessons.
+      SPANISH WITHOUT A MASTER. In Four Easy Lessons.
+        ITALIAN WITHOUT A MASTER. In Five Easy Lessons.
+          LATIN WITHOUT A MASTER. In Six Easy Lessons.
+
+Price of either of the above Works, separate, 25 cents each--or the
+whole five may be had for One Dollar, and will be sent _free of postage_
+to any one on their remitting that amount to the publisher, in a
+letter.
+
+
+WORKS BY THE BEST AUTHORS.
+
+FLIRTATIONS IN AMERICA; OR HIGH LIFE IN NEW YORK. A capital book. 285
+    pages. Price 50 cents.
+
+DON QUIXOTTE.--ILLUSTRATED LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTTE DE LA
+    MANCHA, and his Squire Sancho Panza, with all the original notes.
+    300 pages. Price 75 cents.
+
+WILD SPORTS IN THE WEST. By W. H. Maxwell, author of "Pictorial Life and
+    Adventures of Grace O'Malley." Price 50 cents.
+
+THE ROMISH CONFESSIONAL; or, the Auricular Confession and Spiritual
+    direction of the Romish Church. Its History, Consequences, and
+    policy of the Jesuits. By M. Michelet. Price 50 cents.
+
+GENEVRA; or, the History of a Portrait. By Miss Fairfield, one of the
+    best writers in America. 200 pages. Price 50 cents.
+
+WILD OATS SOWN ABROAD; OR, ON AND OFF SOUNDINGS. It is the Private
+    Journal of a Gentleman of Leisure and Education, and of a highly
+    cultivated mind, in making the tour of Europe. It shows up all the
+    High and Low Life to be found in all the fashionable resorts in
+    Paris. Price 50 cents in paper cover, or 75 cents in cloth, gilt.
+
+SALATHIEL; OR, THE WANDERING JEW. By Rev. George Croly. One of the best
+    and most world-wide celebrated books that has ever been printed.
+    Price 50 cents.
+
+LLORENTE'S HISTORY OF THE INQUISITION IN SPAIN. Only edition published
+    in this country. Price 50 cents; or handsomely bound in muslin,
+    gilt, price 75 cents.
+
+DR. HOLLICK'S NEW BOOK. ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY, with a large dissected
+    plate of the Human Figure, colored to Life. By the celebrated Dr.
+    Hollick, author of "The Family Physician," "Origin of Life," etc.
+    Price One Dollar.
+
+DR. HOLLICK'S FAMILY PHYSICIAN; OR, THE TRUE ART OF HEALING THE SICK. A
+    book that should be in the house of every family. It is a perfect
+    treasure. Price 25 cents.
+
+MYSTERIES OF THREE CITIES. Boston, New York, and Philadelphia. Revealing
+    the secrets of society in these various cities. All should read it.
+    By A. J. H. Duganne. 200 pages. Price 50 cents.
+
+RED INDIANS OF NEWFOUNDLAND. A beautifully illustrated Indian Story, by
+    the author of the "Prairie Bird." Price 50 cents.
+
+HARRIS'S ADVENTURES IN AFRICA. This book is a rich treat. Two volumes.
+    Price One Dollar, or handsomely bound, $1.50.
+
+THE PETREL; OR, LOVE ON THE OCEAN. A sea novel equal to the best. By
+    Admiral Fisher. 200 pages. Price 50 cents.
+
+ARISTOCRACY, OR LIFE AMONG THE "UPPER TEN." A true novel of fashionable
+    life. By J. A. Nunes, Esq. Price 50 cents.
+
+THE CABIN AND PARLOR. By J. Thornton Randolph. It is beautifully
+    illustrated. Price 50 cents in paper cover; or a finer edition,
+    printed on thicker and better paper, and handsomely bound in muslin,
+    gilt, is published for One Dollar.
+
+LIFE IN THE SOUTH. A companion to "Uncle Tom's Cabin." By C. H. Wiley.
+    Beautifully illustrated from original designs by Darley. Price 50
+    cents.
+
+SKETCHES IN IRELAND. By William M. Thackeray, author of "Vanity Fair,"
+    "History of Pendennis," etc. Price 50 cents.
+
+THE ROMAN TRAITOR; OR, THE DAYS OF CATALINE AND CICERO. By Henry William
+    Herbert. This is one of the most powerful Roman stories in the
+    English language, and is of itself sufficient to stamp the writer as
+    a powerful man. Complete in two large volumes, of over 250 pages
+    each, paper cover, price One Dollar, or bound in one volume, cloth,
+    for $1 25.
+
+THE LADY'S WORK-TABLE BOOK. Full of plates, designs, diagrams, and
+    illustrations to learn all kinds of needlework. A work every Lady
+    should possess. Price 50 cents in paper cover; or bound in crimson
+    cloth, gilt, for 75 cents.
+
+THE COQUETTE. One of the best books ever written. One volume, octavo,
+    over 200 pages. Price 50 cents.
+
+WHITEFRIARS; OR, THE DAYS OF CHARLES THE SECOND. An Historical Romance.
+    Splendidly illustrated with original designs, by Chapin. It is the
+    best historical romance published for years. Price 50 cents.
+
+WHITEHALL; OR, THE TIMES OF OLIVER CROMWELL. By the author of
+    "Whitefriars." It is a work which, for just popularity and intensity
+    of interest, has not been equalled since the publication of
+    "Waverly." Beautifully illustrated. Price 50 cents.
+
+THE SPITFIRE. A Nautical Romance. By Captain Chamier, author of "Life
+    and Adventures of Jack Adams." Illustrated. Price 50 cents.
+
+UNCLE TOM'S CABIN AS IT IS. One large volume, illustrated, bound in
+    cloth. Price $1 25.
+
+FATHER CLEMENT. By Grace Kennady, author of "Dunallen," "Abbey of
+    Innismoyle," etc. A beautiful book. Price 50 cents.
+
+THE ABBEY OF INNISMOYLE. By Grace Kennady, author of "Father Clement."
+    Equal to any of her former works. Price 25 cents.
+
+THE FORTUNE HUNTER; a novel of New York society, Upper and Lower Tendom.
+    By Mrs. Anna Cora Mowatt. Price 38 cents.
+
+POCKET LIBRARY OF USEFUL KNOWLEDGE. New and enlarged edition, with
+    numerous engravings. Twenty thousand copies sold. We have never seen
+    a volume embracing any thing like the same quantity of useful
+    matter. The work is really a treasure. It should speedily find its
+    way into every family. It also contains a large and entirely new Map
+    of the United States, with full page portraits of the Presidents of
+    the United States, from Washington until the present time, executed
+    in the finest style of the art. Price 50 cents a copy only.
+
+HENRY CLAY'S PORTRAIT. Nagle's correct, full length Mezzotinto Portrait,
+    and only true likeness ever published of the distinguished
+    Statesman. Engraved by Sartain. Size, 22 by 30 inches. Price $1 00 a
+    copy only. Originally sold at $5 00 a copy.
+
+THE MISER'S HEIR; OR, THE YOUNG MILLIONAIRE. A story of a Guardian and
+    his Ward. A prize novel. By P. H. Myers, author of the "Emigrant
+    Squire." Price 50 cents in paper cover, or 75 cents in cloth, gilt.
+
+THE TWO LOVERS. A Domestic Story. It is a highly interesting and
+    companionable book, conspicuous for its purity of sentiment--its
+    graphic and vigorous style--its truthful delineations of
+    character--and deep and powerful interest of its plot. Price 38
+    cents.
+
+ARRAH NEIL. A novel by G. P. R. James. Price 50 cents.
+
+SIEGE OF LONDONDERRY. A History of the Siege of Londonderry, and Defence
+    of Enniskillen, in 1688 and 1689, by the Rev. John Graham. Price 37
+    cents.
+
+VICTIMS OF AMUSEMENTS. By Martha Clark, and dedicated by the author to
+    the Sabbath Schools of the land. One vol., cloth, 38 cents.
+
+FREAKS OF FORTUNE; or, The Life and Adventures of Ned Lorn. By the
+    author of "Wild Western Scenes." One volume, cloth. Price One
+    Dollar.
+
+
+WORKS AT TWENTY-FIVE CENTS EACH.
+
+GENTLEMAN'S SCIENCE OF ETIQUETTE, AND GUIDE TO SOCIETY. By Count Alfred
+    D'Orsay With a portrait of Count D'Orsay. Price 25 cents.
+
+LADIES' SCIENCE OF ETIQUETTE. By Countess de Calabrella, with her
+    full-length portrait. Price 25 cents.
+
+ELLA STRATFORD; OR, THE ORPHAN CHILD. By the Countess of Blessington. A
+    charming and entertaining work. Price 25 cents.
+
+GHOST STORIES. Full of illustrations. Being a Wonderful Book. Price 25
+    cents.
+
+ADMIRAL'S DAUGHTER. By Mrs. Marsh, author of "Ravenscliffe." One volume,
+    octavo. Price 25 cents.
+
+THE MONK. A Romance. By Matthew G. Lewis, Esq., M. P. All should read
+    it. Price 25 cents.
+
+DIARY OF A PHYSICIAN. Second Series. By S. C. Warren, author of "Ten
+    Thousand a Year." Illustrated. Price 25 cents.
+
+ABEDNEGO, THE MONEY LENDER. By Mrs. Gore. Price 25 cents.
+
+MADISON'S EXPOSITION OF THE AWFUL CEREMONIES OF ODD FELLOWSHIP, with 20
+    plates. Price 25 cents.
+
+GLIDDON'S ANCIENT EGYPT, HER MONUMENTS, HIEROGLYPHICS, HISTORY, ETC.
+    Full of plates. Price 25 cents.
+
+BEAUTIFUL FRENCH GIRL; or the Daughter of Monsieur Fontanbleu. Price 25
+    cents.
+
+MYSTERIES OF BEDLAM; OR, ANNALS OF THE LONDON MADHOUSE. Price 25 cents.
+
+JOSEPHINE. A Story of the Heart. By Grace Aguilar, author of "Home
+    Influence," "Mother's Recompense," etc. Price 25 cents.
+
+EVA ST. CLAIR; AND OTHER TALES. By G. P. R. James, Esq., author of
+    "Richelieu." Price 25 cents.
+
+AGNES GREY; AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. By the author of "Jane Eyre," "Shirley,"
+    etc. Price 25 cents.
+
+BELL BRANDON, AND THE WITHERED FIG TREE. By P. Hamilton Myers. A Three
+    Hundred Dollar prize novel. Price 25 cents.
+
+KNOWLSON'S COMPLETE CATTLE, OR COW DOCTOR. Whoever owns a cow should
+    have this book. Price 25 cents.
+
+KNOWLSON'S COMPLETE FARRIER, OR HORSE DOCTOR. All that own a horse
+    should possess this work. Price 25 cents.
+
+THE COMPLETE KITCHEN AND FRUIT GARDENER, FOR POPULAR AND GENERAL USE.
+    Price 25 cents.
+
+THE COMPLETE FLORIST; OR FLOWER GARDENER. The best in the world. Price
+    25 cents.
+
+THE EMIGRANT SQUIRE. By author of "Bell Brandon." 25 cents.
+
+PHILIP IN SEARCH OF A WIFE. By the author of "Kate in Search of a
+    Husband." Price 25 cents.
+
+MYSTERIES OF A CONVENT. By a noted Methodist Preacher. Price 25 cents.
+
+THE ORPHAN SISTERS. It is a tale such as Miss Austen might have been
+    proud of, and Goldsmith would not have disowned. It is well told,
+    and excites a strong interest. Price 25 cents.
+
+THE DEFORMED. One of the best novels ever written, and THE CHARITY
+    SISTER. By Hon. Mrs. Norton. Price 25 cents.
+
+LIFE IN NEW YORK. IN DOORS AND OUT OF DOORS. By the late William Burns.
+    Illustrated by Forty Engravings. Price 25 cents.
+
+JENNY AMBROSE; OR, LIFE IN THE EASTERN STATES. An excellent book. Price
+    25 cents.
+
+MORETON HALL; OR, THE SPIRITS OF THE HAUNTED HOUSE. A Tale founded on
+    Facts. Price 25 cents.
+
+RODY THE ROVER; OR THE RIBBON MAN. An Irish Tale. By William Carleton.
+    One volume, octavo. Price 25 cents.
+
+AMERICA'S MISSION. By Rev. Charles Wadsworth. Price 25 cents.
+
+POLITICS IN RELIGION. By Rev. Charles Wadsworth. Price 121/2 cts.
+
+
+Professor LIEBIG'S Works on Chemistry.
+
+AGRICULTURAL CHEMISTRY. Chemistry in its application to Agriculture and
+    Physiology. Price Twenty-five cents.
+
+ANIMAL CHEMISTRY. Chemistry in its application to Physiology and
+    Pathology. Price Twenty-five cents.
+
+FAMILIAR LETTERS ON CHEMISTRY, and its relations to Commerce, Physiology
+    and Agriculture.
+
+THE POTATO DISEASE. Researches into the motion of the Juices in the
+    animal body.
+
+CHEMISTRY AND PHYSICS IN RELATION TO PHYSIOLOGY AND PATHOLOGY.
+
+T. B. PETERSON also publishes a complete edition of Professor Liebig's
+works on Chemistry, comprising the whole of the above. They are bound in
+one large royal octavo volume, in Muslin gilt. Price for the complete
+works bound in one volume, One Dollar and Fifty cents. The three last
+are not published separately from the bound volume.
+
+
+EXCELLENT SHILLING BOOKS.
+
+THE SEVEN POOR TRAVELLERS. By Charles Dickens. Price 121/2 cts.
+
+THE SCHOOLBOY, AND OTHER STORIES. By Dickens. 121/2 cents.
+
+SISTER ROSE. By Charles Dickens. Price 121/2 cents.
+
+CHRISTMAS CAROL. By Charles Dickens. Price 121/2 cents.
+
+LIZZIE LEIGH, AND THE MINER'S DAUGHTERS. By Charles Dickens. Price
+    121/2 cents.
+
+THE CHIMES. By Charles Dickens. Price 121/2 cents.
+
+THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH. By Charles Dickens. Price 121/2 cts.
+
+BATTLE OF LIFE. By Charles Dickens. Price 121/2 cents.
+
+HAUNTED MAN; AND THE GHOST'S BARGAIN. By Charles Dickens. Price 121/2
+    cents.
+
+THE YELLOW MASK. From Dickens' Household Words. Price 121/2 cts.
+
+A WIFE'S STORY. From Dickens' Household Words. Price 121/2 cts.
+
+MOTHER AND STEPMOTHER. By Dickens. Price 121/2 cents.
+
+ODD FELLOWSHIP EXPOSED. With all the Signs, Grips, Pass-words, etc.
+    Illustrated. Price 121/2 cents.
+
+MORMONISM EXPOSED. Full of Engravings, and Portraits of the Twelve
+    Apostles. Price 121/2 cents.
+
+THE LIFE AND DEATH OF THE REV. JOHN N. MAFFIT; with his Portrait. Price
+    121/2 cents.
+
+REV. ALBERT BARNES ON THE MAINE LIQUOR LAW. THE THRONE OF INIQUITY; or,
+    sustaining Evil by Law. A discourse in behalf of a law prohibiting
+    the traffic in intoxicating drinks Price 121/2 cents.
+
+WOMAN. DISCOURSE ON WOMAN. HER SPHERE, DUTIES, ETC. By Lucretia Mott.
+    Price 121/2 cents.
+
+EUCHRE. THE GAME OF EUCHRE, AND ITS LAWS. By a member of the Euchre Club
+    of Philadelphia of Thirty Years' standing. Price 121/2 cents.
+
+DR. BERG'S ANSWER TO ARCHBISHOP HUGHES. Price 121/2 cents.
+
+DR. BERG'S LECTURE ON THE JESUITS. Price 121/2 cents.
+
+FRESH FRUITS AND VEGETABLES all the Year round, at Summer prices, and
+    how to obtain and have them, with full directions. 121/2 cents.
+
+=T. B. PETERSON'S Wholesale & Retail Cheap Book, Magazine, Newspaper,
+Publishing and Bookselling Establishment, is at No. 102 Chestnut Street,
+Philadelphia:=
+
+From which place he will supply all orders for any books at all, no
+matter by whom published, in advance of all others, and at publishers'
+lowest cash prices. He respectfully invites Country Merchants,
+Booksellers, Pedlars, Canvassers, Agents, the Trade, Strangers to the
+City, and the public generally, to call and examine his extensive
+collection of all kinds of publications, where they will be sure to find
+all the _best, latest, and cheapest works_ published in this country or
+elsewhere, for sale very low.
+
+
+
+
+THE DESERTED WIFE.
+
+BY MRS. EMMA D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH.
+
+AUTHOR OF "THE LOST HEIRESS," "THE MISSING BRIDE," "WIFE'S VICTORY,"
+"CURSE OF CLIFTON," "DISCARDED DAUGHTER," ETC., ETC.
+
+Complete in one vol., bound in cloth, for One Dollar and Twenty-five
+Cents; or in two vols., paper cover, for One Dollar.
+
+The announcement of a new book by Mrs. Southworth, the author of "The
+Lost Heiress," is a matter of great interest to all that love to read
+and admire pure and chaste American works. It is a new work of unusual
+power and thrilling interest. The scene is laid in one of the southern
+States, and the story gives a picture of the manners and customs of the
+planting gentry, in an age not far removed backward from the present.
+The characters are drawn with a strong hand, and the book abounds with
+scenes of intense interest, the whole plot being wrought out with much
+power and effect; and no one, we are confident, can read it without
+acknowledging that it possesses more than ordinary merit. The author is
+a writer of remarkable genius and originality--manifesting wonderful
+power in the vivid depicting of character, and in her glowing
+descriptions of scenery. Hagar, the heroine of the "Deserted Wife," is a
+magnificent being, while Raymond, Gusty, and Mr. Withers, are not merely
+names, but existences--they live and move before us, each acting in
+accordance with his peculiar nature. The purpose of the author,
+professedly, is to teach the lesson, "that the fundamental causes of
+unhappiness in a married life, are a defective moral and _physical_
+education, and a premature contraction of the matrimonial engagement."
+It is a book to read and reflect on, and one that cannot fail to do an
+immense amount of good, and will rank as one of the brightest and purest
+ornaments among the literature of this country.
+
+READ THE SUBJECT MATTER OF THE DIFFERENT CHAPTERS.
+
+  Marriage and Divorce.
+  The Old Mansion House.
+  The Aged Pastor.
+  The Old Man's Darling.
+  The Evil Eye.
+  The Philosopher.
+  The Young Lieutenant.
+  First Love.
+  Magnetism.
+  The Phantom's Warning.
+  The Wanderer's Death.
+  Raymond.
+  Fanaticism.
+  Hagar.
+  Rosalia.
+  The Attic.
+  Gusty.
+  The Moor.
+  The Storm.
+  The Lunatic's End.
+  The Hunt.
+  La Lionne de Chase.
+  Hagar's Bridal.
+  The Love Angel.
+  The Bride's Trial.
+  The Forsaken House.
+  The New Home.
+  The Midshipman's Love.
+  The Worship of Joy.
+  The Wife's Rival.
+  The New Medea.
+  The Bleeding Heart.
+  The Baptism of Grief.
+  Fascination.
+  The Forsaken.
+  The Fiery Trial.
+  Return to the Desolate Home.
+  Hagar at Heath Hall.
+  The Flight of Rosalia.
+  The Worship of Sorrow.
+  God the Consoler.
+  Hagar's Resurrection.
+  A Revelation.
+  Family Secrets.
+  Rosalia's Wanderings.
+  The Queen of Song.
+  Rappings at Heath Hall.
+  Hagar's Ovation.
+
+T. B. PETERSON also publishes a complete and uniform edition of Mrs
+Southworth's other works, any one or all of which, of either edition,
+will be sent to any place in the United States, _free of postage_, on
+receipt of remittances. The following are their names.
+
+THE LOST HEIRESS. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. With a Portrait and
+    Autograph of the author. Complete in two volumes, paper cover. Price
+    One Dollar; or in one volume, cloth, for One Dollar and Twenty-five
+    cents.
+
+THE MISSING BRIDE; or, MIRIAM THE AVENGER. By Mrs. Southworth. Two
+    volumes, paper cover. Price One Dollar; or bound in one volume,
+    cloth, for $1.25.
+
+THE WIFE'S VICTORY; AND NINE OTHER NOUVELLETTES. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N.
+    Southworth. It is embellished with a view of Prospect Cottage, the
+    residence of the author. Two vols., paper cover. Price One Dollar;
+    or one volume, cloth, for $1.25.
+
+THE CURSE OF CLIFTON. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. Complete in two
+    volumes, paper cover. Price One Dollar; or bound in one volume,
+    cloth, for $1.25.
+
+THE DISCARDED DAUGHTER. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. Complete in
+    two volumes. Price in paper cover, One Dollar; or bound in one
+    volume, cloth, for $1.25.
+
+  Published and for Sale by             T. B. PETERSON,
+      No. 102 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia.
+
+
+
+
+THE LOST HEIRESS.
+
+BY MRS. EMMA D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH.
+
+Read the Brief Extracts from Lengthy Opinions given by the Press.
+
+"It presents some of the most noble and beautiful models of virtue, in
+private and in public life, that ever came to us through a similar medium.
+It must have a moral, religious, and elevating tendency."--_Godey's Lady's
+Book._
+
+"Its pages can be read, and re-read with renewed pleasure. The
+characters stand out in bold relief. The incidents are well told, and
+the interest never flags for a moment. It is a book not to be
+forgotten."--_Evening Bulletin._
+
+"Maud Hunter, the heroine, is a beautiful creation, whose history will
+be perused with intense interest, and moistened eyes, by every
+sympathetic reader. The moral tone is pure and healthy, breathing the
+spirit of true religion."--_Boston Transcript._
+
+"Its chasteness of morals, and its exalted role of virtue pervades every
+page. We would desire it to become a parlor table-book in every
+family."--_N. Y. Sunday Times._
+
+"It will sustain the already enviable reputation of the author. The
+character of Maud is as near perfection as anything human could be. A
+deep and thrilling interest pervades the whole work."--_N. Y. Spirit of
+the Times._
+
+"We have perused it with care and an unanticipated pleasure. The author
+displays skill and power. The plot is very well laid. The moral is
+good."--_Boston Congregationalist._
+
+"This work is written with much ability. We have perused the whole of
+it, and been greatly edified. It is far superior to, and more brilliant
+than _The Lamplighter_."--_Daily Orleanian, N. O._
+
+"It is a beautifully written, and absorbingly interesting work,
+which no one can commence without following it eagerly to the
+conclusion."--_Reading Gazette and Democrat._
+
+"It shows great ability, a vivid imagination, and descriptive powers of
+a very high order. It will be read with avidity."--_Saturday Evening
+Mail._
+
+"The characters are all drawn to the life. Those who are fond of a good
+book should read it."--_Union Harrisburg, Pa._
+
+"She is a writer of genius and originality, and has no superior in
+depicting character and scenery."--_Buffalo Courier._
+
+"Great power and originality--graphic, brilliant and moral. She has
+hosts of admirers."--_Wheeling Intelligencer._
+
+"We always read her creations with great pleasure. It is a charming
+work,"--_Boston Sunday News._
+
+"It will be read with much interest. She is a pleasant writer, and has a
+high reputation."--_Boston Traveler._
+
+"It possesses great fertility of genius, and incidents of deep
+pathos."--_Nat. Intelligencer._
+
+"The plot is well wrought, and possesses an interest that is preserved
+to the last page of the book."--_Sunday Mercury._
+
+"It is her last and best work, and she has composed it with more than
+usual care."--_Sunday Dispatch._
+
+"The story is intensely interesting. The authoress has an established
+reputation."--_Richmond Dispatch._
+
+"She is a writer of remarkable genius and originality."--_N. Y. Sunday
+Mercury._
+
+"It is a most entertaining volume. The writer is winning great
+popularity."--_Balt. Sun._
+
+"The Lost Heiress is a novel of great interest. The characters are well
+depicted, and exhibited in colors as vivid as they are beautiful, and
+are invested with a charm which the reader will linger over in memory,
+long after he shall have closed the book."--_Newark Daily Eagle._
+
+Price for the complete work, in two volumes of over 500 pages, in paper
+cover, One Dollar only; or another edition, handsomely bound in one
+volume, cloth, gilt, is published for One Dollar and Twenty-Five Cents.
+
+Copies of the above work will be sent to any person, to any part of the
+United States, _free of postage_, on their remitting the price of the
+edition they may wish, to the publisher, in a letter, post-paid.
+
+  Published and for sale by       T. B. PETERSON,
+      No. 102 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia.
+
+
+
+
+THE WIFE'S VICTORY;
+
+AND NINE OTHER NOUVELLETTES.
+
+BY MRS. EMMA D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH.
+
+Being the Most Splendid Pictures of American Life Ever Written.
+
+=Complete in two volumes, paper cover, Price One Dollar, or bound in one
+volume, cloth, for $1.25.=
+
+T. B. PETERSON has just published this new and celebrated work by Mrs.
+Southworth. The volume contains, besides "THE WIFE'S VICTORY," NINE OF
+THE MOST CELEBRATED NOUVELLETTES ever written by this favorite and
+world-renowned American author, and it will prove to be one of the most
+popular works ever issued. The names of the Nouvellettes contained in
+"The Wife's Victory," are as follows:
+
+  =THE WIFE'S VICTORY.=
+  =THE MARRIED SHREW; a Sequel to the Wife's Victory.=
+  =SYBIL BROTHERTON; or, The Temptation.=
+  =THE IRISH REFUGEE.=
+  =EVELINE MURRAY; or, The Fine Figure.=
+  =WINNY.=
+  =THE THREE SISTERS; or, New Year's in the Little Rough Cast House.=
+  =ANNIE GREY; or, Neighbor's Prescriptions.=
+  =ACROSS THE STREET: a New Year's Story.=
+  =THUNDERBOLT TO THE HEARTH.=
+
+THE WIFE'S VICTORY will be found, on perusal by all, to be equal, if not
+superior, to any of the previous works by this celebrated American
+authoress, who is now conceded by all critics to be the best female
+writer now living, and her works to be the greatest novels in the
+English language, as well as the most splendid pictures of American life
+ever written. Either one of the ten nouvellettes contained in this
+volume, is of itself fully worth the price of the whole book. The
+_Philadelphia Daily Sun_ says, in its editorial columns, that it shows
+all the grace, vigor, and absorbing interest of her previous works, and
+places Mrs. Southworth in the front rank of living novelists; and that
+indescribable charm pervades all her works, which can only emanate from
+a female mind. Though America has produced many examples of high
+intellect in her sex, none are destined to a higher range in the annals
+of fame, or more enduring popularity. It is embellished with a
+beautifully engraved vignette title page, executed on steel, in the
+finest style of the art, as well as a view of Brotherton Hall,
+illustrative of one of the most interesting places and scenes in the
+work.
+
+"Mrs. Southworth is the finest authoress in the country. Her style is
+forcible and bold. There is an exciting interest throughout all her
+compositions, which renders them the most popular novels in the English
+language."--_New York Mirror._
+
+"Her pictures of life are vivid and truthful."--_Sunday Times._
+
+"She is a woman of brilliant genius."--_Olive Branch._
+
+"She is the best fiction writer in the country."--_Buffalo Express._
+
+Copies of the above work will be sent to any person at all, to any part
+of the United States, _free of postage_, on their remitting the price of
+the edition they may wish, to the publisher, in a letter, post-paid.
+
+  Published and for sale by          T. B. PETERSON,
+      No. 102 Chestnut St., Philadelphia.
+
+
+
+
+GREAT INDUCEMENTS FOR 1856
+
+NOW IS THE TIME TO MAKE UP CLUBS!
+
+PETERSON'S MAGAZINE
+
+The best and cheapest in the World for Ladies.
+
+EDITED BY MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS AND CHARLES J. PETERSON.
+
+This popular Magazine, already the cheapest and best Monthly of its kind
+in the world, _will be greatly improved for_ 1856. It will contain 900
+pages of double-column reading matter; from twenty to thirty Steel
+Plates; and _over four hundred_ Wood Engravings: which is
+proportionately more than any periodical, of any price, ever yet gave.
+
+_ITS THRILLING ORIGINAL STORIES_
+
+Are pronounced, by the press, _the best published anywhere_. The editors
+are Mrs. Ann S. Stephens, author of "The Old Homestead." "Fashion and
+Famine," and Charles J. Peterson, author of "Kate Aylesford." "The Valley
+Farm," etc., etc.; and they are assisted by all the most popular female
+writers of America. New talent is continually being added, _regardless of
+expense_, so as to keep "Peterson's Magazine" unapproachable in merit.
+Morality and virtue are always inculcated.
+
+ITS COLORED FASHION PLATES IN ADVANCE.
+
+--> _It is the only Magazine whose Fashion Plates can be relied on._ <--
+
+Each Number contains a Fashion Plate, engraved on Steel, colored _a la
+mode_, and of unrivalled beauty. The Paris, London, Philadelphia, and
+New York Fashions are described, at length, each month. Every number
+also contains a dozen or more New Styles, engraved on Wood. Also, a
+Pattern, from which a dress, mantilla, or child's costume, can be cut,
+without the aid of a mantua-maker, so that each number, in this way,
+will _save a year's subscription_.
+
+Its superb Mezzotints, and other Steel Engravings.
+
+Its Illustrations excel those of any other Magazine, each number
+containing a superb Steel Engraving, either mezzotint or line, beside
+the Fashion Plate; and, in addition, numerous other Engravings, Wood
+Cuts, Patterns, &c., &c. The Engravings, at the end of the year, _alone_
+are worth the subscription price.
+
+PATTERNS FOR CROTCHET, NEEDLEWORK, etc.,
+
+In the greatest profusion, are given in every number, with Instructions
+how to work them; also, Patterns in Embroidery, Inserting, Broiderie
+Anglaise, Netting, Lace-making, &c., &c. Also, Patterns for Sleeves,
+Collars, and Chemisettes; Patterns in Bead-work, Hair-work, Shell-work;
+Handkerchief Corners; Names for Marking and Initials. Each number
+contains a Paper Flower, with directions how to make it. A piece of new
+and fashionable Music is also published every month. On the whole, it is
+the _most complete Ladies Magazine in the World_. TRY IT FOR ONE YEAR.
+
+TERMS:--ALWAYS IN ADVANCE.
+
+  One copy for One Year,        $ 2 00
+  Three copies for One Year,      5 00
+  Five copies for One Year,     $ 7 50
+  Eight copies for One Year,     10 00
+  Sixteen copies for One Year,  $20 00
+
+=PREMIUMS FOR GETTING UP CLUBS.=
+
+Three, Five, Eight, or Sixteen copies, make a Club. To every person
+getting up a Club, our "Port-Folio of Art," containing _Fifty_
+Engravings, will be given gratis; or, if preferred, a copy of the
+Magazine for 1855. For a Club of Sixteen, an extra copy of the Magazine
+for 1856, will be sent _in addition_.
+
+  _Address, post-paid_, CHARLES J. PETERSON,
+      No. 102 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia.
+
+--> Specimens sent, gratuitously, if written for, post-paid.
+
+--> All Postmasters constituted Agents. But any person may get up a
+Club.
+
+--> Persons remitting will please get the Postmaster to register their
+letters, in which case the remittance may be at our risk. When the sum
+is large, a draft should be procured, the cost of which may be deducted
+from the amount.
+
+
+
+
+T. B. PETERSON'S
+
+WHOLESALE AND RETAIL
+
+Cheap Book, Magazine, Newspaper, Publishing and Bookselling
+Establishment, is at
+
+=No. 102 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia.=
+
+
+T. B. PETERSON has the satisfaction to announce to the public, that he
+has removed to the new and spacious BROWN STONE BUILDING, NO. 102
+CHESTNUT STREET, just completed by the city authorities on the Girard
+Estate, known as the most central and best situation in the city of
+Philadelphia. As it is the Model Book Store of the Country, we will
+describe it: It is the largest, most spacious, and best arranged Retail
+and Wholesale Cheap Book and Publishing Establishment in the United
+States. It is built, by the Girard Estate, of Connecticut sand-stone, in
+a richly ornamental style. The whole front of the lower story, except
+that taken up by the doorway, is occupied by two large plate glass
+windows, a single plate to each window, costing together over three
+thousand dollars. On entering and looking up, you find above you a
+ceiling sixteen feet high; while, on gazing before, you perceive a vista
+of One Hundred and Fifty-Seven feet. The retail counters extend back for
+eighty feet, and, being double, afford counter-room of One Hundred and
+Sixty feet in length. There is also over _Three Thousand feet of
+shelving in the retail part of the store alone_. This part is devoted to
+the retail business, and as it is the most spacious in the country,
+furnishes also the best and largest assortment of all kinds of books to
+be found in the country. It is fitted up in the most superb style; the
+shelvings are all painted in Florence white, with gilded cornices for
+the book shelves.
+
+Behind the retail part of the store, at about ninety foot from the
+entrance, is the counting-room, twenty feet square, railed neatly off,
+and surmounted by a most beautiful dome of stained glass. In the rear of
+this is the wholesale and packing department, extending a further
+distance of about sixty feet, with desks and packing counters for the
+establishment, etc., etc. All goods are received and shipped from the
+back of the store, having a fine avenue on the side of Girard Bank for
+the purpose, leading out to Third Street, so as not to interfere with
+and block up the front of the store on Chestnut Street. The cellar, of
+the entire depth of the store, is filled with printed copies of Mr.
+Peterson's own publications, printed from his own stereotype plates, of
+which he generally keeps on hand an edition of a thousand each, making a
+stock, of his own publications alone, of over three hundred thousand
+volumes, constantly on hand.
+
+T. B. PETERSON is warranted in saying, that he is able to offer such
+inducements to the Trade, and all others, to favor him with their
+orders, as cannot be excelled by any book establishment in the country.
+In proof of this, T. B. PETERSON begs leave to refer to his great
+facilities of getting stock of all kinds, his dealing direct with all
+the Publishing Houses in the country, and also to his own long list of
+Publications, consisting of the best and most popular productions of the
+most talented authors of the United States and Great Britain, and to his
+very extensive stock, embracing every work, new or old, published in the
+United States.
+
+T. B. PETERSON will be most happy to supply all orders for any books at
+all, no matter by whom published, in advance of all others, and at
+publishers' lowest cash prices. He respectfully invites Country
+Merchants, Booksellers, Pedlars, Canvassers, Agents, the Trade,
+Strangers in the city, and the public generally, to call and examine his
+extensive collection of cheap and standard publications of all kinds,
+comprising a most magnificent collection of CHEAP BOOKS, MAGAZINES,
+NOVELS, STANDARD and POPULAR WORKS of all kinds, BIBLES, PRAYER BOOKS,
+ANNUALS, GIFT BOOKS, ILLUSTRATED WORKS, ALBUMS and JUVENILE WORKS of all
+kinds, GAMES of all kinds, to suit all ages, tastes, etc., which he is
+selling to his customers and the public at much lower prices than they
+can be purchased elsewhere. Being located at No. 102 CHESTNUT Street,
+the great thoroughfare of the city, and BUYING his stock outright in
+large quantities, and not selling on commission, he can and will sell
+them on such terms as will defy all competition. Call and examine our
+stock, you will find it to be the best, largest and cheapest in the
+city; and you will also be sure to find all the _best, latest, popular,
+and cheapest works_ published in this country or elsewhere, for sale at
+the lowest prices.
+
+--> Call in person and examine our stock, or send your orders by _mail
+direct_, to the CHEAP BOOKSELLING and PUBLISHING ESTABLISHMENT of
+
+  =T. B. PETERSON,
+      No. 102 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia.=
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note
+
+
+The following typographical errors were corrected:
+
+   13  _Collins_ changed to _Collins._
+   14  ornament than use changed to ornament than use.
+   17  I be!'" changed to I be!'
+   18  few moments" changed to few moments,"
+   20  and God wont changed to and God won't
+   29  merry-making and frolicking changed to merry-making and frolicking.
+   32  _Milton_ changed to _Milton._
+   40  repeated Helen, changed to repeated Helen.
+   50  and she wont changed to and she won't
+   52  than a cipher changed to than a cipher.
+   53  study hereafter. changed to study hereafter."
+   54  she is sleeping changed to "she is sleeping
+   55  waiting for her changed to waiting for her.
+   71  whispered Helen changed to  whispered Helen.
+   71  in or out changed to in or out.
+   72  "'Now," changed to "'Now,'
+   73  child did'nt changed to child didn't
+   77  mild summer evening, changed to mild summer evening.
+   82  to love her changed to to love her.
+   86  It's nobody but changed to "It's nobody but
+   90  the young doctor changed to the young doctor.
+   91  blessed light? changed to blessed light?"
+  113  and more pervading changed to and more pervading.
+  116  dissappointment changed to disappointment
+  119  gloriou changed to glorious
+  120  ancestral figure of Misss changed to ancestral figure of Miss
+  128  deep,tranquil,refreshing changed to deep, tranquil, refreshing
+  128  joyious changed to joyous
+  133  to see me. changed to to see me."
+  139  It is all changed to "It is all
+  148  he had roused, changed to he had roused.
+  149  said Mrs. leason changed to said Mrs. Gleason
+  155  going tomorrow changed to going to-morrow
+  162  whithering changed to withering
+  164  I believe I changed to "I believe I
+  166  shant changed to shan't
+  176  corruscate changed to coruscate
+  179  "'Not poppy, changed to 'Not poppy,
+  180  his own experience?" changed to his own experience?
+  184  which wont be changed to which won't be
+  190  _Shakspeare_ changed to _Shakspeare._
+  205  Poor child!. changed to Poor child!
+  217  abscence changed to absence
+  221  not very call changed to not very
+  229  _Hymn_ changed to _Hymn._
+  233  dissappointed changed to disappointed
+  241  OLIVER TWIST changed to OLIVER TWIST,
+  243  INDA; changed to LINDA;
+  243  etter books changed to better books
+  245  with many Husbands changed to with many Husbands.
+  245  PASSION AND PRINCIPLE changed to PASSION AND PRINCIPLE.
+  245  HE BARONET'S changed to THE BARONET'S
+  247  OUISE LA VALLIERE changed to LOUISE LA VALLIERE
+  247  538 pages, wit changed to 538 pages, with
+  249  Love." etc. changed to Love," etc.
+  253  equal to th changed to equal to the
+  259  _the_ Lamplighter.'" changed to _The Lamplighter_."
+  262  Philadelphia, changed to Philadelphia.
+
+The following words had inconsistent spelling and hyphenation.
+
+  ecstacy / ecstasy
+  eyelids / eye-lids
+  fireside / fire-side
+  jailer / jailor
+  needlework / needle-work
+  penknife / pen-knife
+  waterfall / water-fall
+  wayside / way-side
+  workbox / work-box
+
+Other inconsistencies found in the text:
+
+Prices on the advertising pages were printed with a period or a space or
+a comma between the dollars and cents. This inconsistency has been
+maintained.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Helen and Arthur, by Caroline Lee Hentz
+
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